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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413354">Blessed Be The Peacemakers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyWinchester/pseuds/BettyWinchester'>BettyWinchester</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Chuck Shurley is Not God, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fate &amp; Destiny, Fluff and Angst, Like really slow, Not Set In The Show's Universe, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Slow Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:28:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>51,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyWinchester/pseuds/BettyWinchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Betty Rivera has lived a fortunate yet sheltered life and was a diligent college student. Returning home from college, Betty finds her father is missing, leaving only a note. Armed with her father’s lore book and his car filled with weapons, Betty goes off in search of her father and begins her hunter life, all while developing unexplainable powers.</p><p>Sporadic updates but not abandoned!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel (Supernatural) &amp; Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester &amp; Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) &amp; Original Male Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. As the Music Dies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fingers drummed against the steering wheel of a 1965 Chevrolet Chevelle Malibu, the familiar tune of Careless Whisper playing in the background. Dark brown hair in a ponytail swayed from side to side with the beat. A female voice mumbled along to the lyrics, humming every time she forgot the words.</p><p>The woman was barely twenty, and she was following a gut feeling. This gut feeling led her to Cape May, New Jersey. Pulling into the small town, she was blinded by the rising sun, bringing to her attention the fact that she had been driving all night. She let out a yawn as she pulled into the parking lot of a motel. Lowering the volume of her radio, she let her head fall onto her steering wheel, fighting against her fatigue. A loud knocking at her window made her let out a yelp of surprise and jump up. </p><p>“Hey!” An older man yelled, still tapping at her window. “If you’re gonna sleep on my property, you gotta pay!” The woman scowled at the man, motioning for him to step back so she could exit the car. Stepping out, she pulled a wallet out of the coat of her jacket and picked out a few bills.</p><p>“How much?” She questioned, the man crossed his arms.</p><p>“Thirty-eight a night.” He quipped. The brunette passed him the money, he proceeded to count what she handed him. She pulled a duffle bag out of her backseat, turning to the man and extending a hand.</p><p> “Key, please.” The man looked her up and down before reaching for a key on his belt.</p><p>“What name should I put it under?” He asked, dropping the key into her hand. Her brown eyes blinked at him, and she adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulders.</p><p>“Betty Rivera.”</p><p>Betty fought the urge to slam her head into her steering wheel. She was tired and now had to amp herself up to act her ass off. She was sitting in her car, just outside Cape May’s Sheriff’s Office, arguing with herself about what charade she would use today. In the passenger’s seat beside her sat a newspaper, around three weeks ago a woman was killed and two people had seen it happen. But, their recounting of the events was strange, to say the least. The police had written off their story as crazy, some even calling them attention seekers.</p><p>Straightening up, she let out a deep breath. She fixed her suit, reaching to grab a badge from her dashboard. Taking one last steadying breath, she exited her car.</p><p>“I’m looking for the sheriff.” She stated, leaning against the secretary’s desk. The secretary looked her up and down, raising an eyebrow at her. Betty cleared her throat, lifting her fake badge. “FBI business.” At that the secretary perked up, pointing a pen toward the largest office in the building. </p><p>“Thatta way.” The brunette thanked the woman with a small smile, lifting her arm from the desk. Knocking on the door, she waited patiently for permission to enter.</p><p>“Come on in.” The voice was muffled, and along with it came the drop of something and a string of curses. “Aw, shit.” Opening the door, the brunette was met with a coffee-soaked Sheriff. He wiped the liquid from his pants, setting a croissant down on his desk. </p><p>“Sheriff Lipkins?” He glanced at her, swooping down to pick up the dropped mug.</p><p>“Yeah, you a fed?” She nodded, flashing her badge and quickly pocketing it again as the door closed behind her. “What are you doing in a little town in Wyoming?” His eyes looked at her with suspicion and the brunette felt her face heat up. </p><p>“Oh, well, when there’s been a string of deaths that are similar, the FBI just wants to be certain there isn’t a serial running around.” She hoped that she didn’t sound weird. Lipkins stared at her, and the young woman simply stared back. </p><p>“Alright.” Betty let go of a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, thanking her years of watching crime shows. “Lucky for you I’ve got copies of all the case files right here.” He motioned to a box sitting on a seat in front of his desk. “Just go ahead and take it.” Peering into the box, Betty hummed slightly surprised at how easy it had been to get them. Leafing through the files, she found something missing in the most recent file.</p><p>“Uh,” she began, calling the attention of the frustrated Sheriff. “Where is the witness account for this case?” She asked, pointing to the picture of the victim. Lipkins stared at her before bursting out into a laugh. </p><p>“You mean that crazy story from the Vimen couple?” His tone was mocking, making the brunette narrow her eyes at him. He laughed for a few seconds, eyes closed as he doubled over. When he opened them, his smile fell at her frown. Clearing his throat, he straightened up and tucked himself into his desk. “Their story was insane,” he began, motioning with his hands. “They claimed that some guy had grabbed the lady, and then turned into a dog before attacking her.” He gave a breathless laugh, but she didn’t give him a reaction. “I mean, it was ridiculous. We couldn’t write that down.” She restrained from rolling her eyes at him, instead, she shook her head and lifted the box.</p><p>“I’m gonna need their address.” </p><p>Shoving the box into the back of her car, the brunette tugged on her jacket in response to an October breeze. She jumped into the driver’s seat with a sigh, leaning back, she closed her eyes. Betty had been on the road for four months now, seen strange occurrence after strange occurrence. But, because of how little time she’s had been hunting, there were a few things that always surprised her. A human turning into a dog.</p><p>Arriving back to her motel room, she let the box fall onto the end of her bed. A sticky note, stuck to the top of the box, tickled her nose. On the note was the current address of the Vimen family, they owned a quaint little house at the edge of town surrounded by a wooded area. Taking the sticky note, she stuck it to the wall beside her bed as a reminder of where she would be heading later that day. </p><p>Pulling out the case files, she focused on the autopsies. Mostly she noted the one similarity among all of the victims, their hearts were missing. Keeping that piece of information in mind, she reached into her duffle bag. Shuffling through it, she pulled out a large worn book. </p><p>“Heart, heart,” she mumbled, leafing through aged pages. She arrived at werewolves, but skipped over them, noting that they didn’t fully turn into wolves. Her eyes widened when she reached another page. “Skinwalker.” It fit the bill, a human that can turn into a dog and eats hearts. She kept reading. Can only be killed with silver, bullet, or knife. She paused reading a note in the margins, written in ballpoint pen; Were once human.</p><p>Pulling up to the isolated house, Betty shuddered. The sun was beginning to go down, leaving the sky an orange and purple mix. Stepping out of her car, the brunette squinted at the house, noticing the door slightly ajar. She went around to her trunk, opening it while still staring at the house. The trunk seemed empty, but slipping her hand into a small crevice, she pulled up the false bottom. Revealing a trove of weapons, she grabbed a shotgun and opened its mag. She loaded three silver bullets and closed the mag.</p><p>She used the muzzle to open the door, holding the gun close. The foyer was bloody, scratch marks running along the walls. Carefully, she stepped through the living room, following two trails of fresh blood. She arrived at the back door in the kitchen, the lock on it broken and splintered. The place of origin and the end of whatever happened. The brunette lowered the shotgun, attempting to piece together the events in her head. The sound of a cabinet opening made her turn swiftly, pointing the shotgun at the source of the noise. Her eyes widened and she lowered the weapon.</p><p>A small girl, seemingly no older than nine, stood in front of her. Tearful blue eyes and frizzy red hair, in her hands, was a stuffed bunny. Betty set the gun down on the floor, taking slow steps toward the startled girl. She stopped nearing when the little girl flinched, instead she squatted a few feet away from her.</p><p>“Hey there.” Her voice was soft in attempts to not startle her further. “You don’t have to be afraid, I’m a safe person.” She gave a bright smile, the girl stared at her blankly, shrinking away.</p><p>“You’re a stranger.” Now it was Betty’s turn to stare at the girl blankly, she chuckled a bit with a nod.</p><p>“My name is Betty.” She offered, extending a hand to the girl. “Now we’re not strangers.” The girl’s eyes glanced from Betty’s face to her hand. She reached her small hand out, hesitating slightly before letting it fall into the older woman’s.</p><p>“I’m Audrey.” She mumbled, coming closer to the brunette. Betty nodded, glancing around the terrifying crime scene. Looking back to the young girl, she couldn’t fight the sinking feeling that she was too late. </p><p>“Audrey,” her hand went up to the little girl’s cheek in an attempt to keep her eyes off of the surroundings. “Do you have any other family?” Audrey shook her head, the brunette sighed. She had no idea what to do. She could leave the girl with the police, but thinking back to Sheriff Lipkins she shook the idea off.</p><p>“Are you going to get my mom and dad back?” She questioned, stepping closer to the woman. “From the bad dog.” Taking a deep breath, she bit her lip unsure how to answer.</p><p>“I’ll try.” She told her, picking the little girl up and grabbing the gun with her free hand. “I’ll try my hardest.” </p><p>The brunette flashed a light toward the woods. She had instructed Audrey to hide in her bedroom closet, in case the skinwalker returned and took off into the woods following the trail of blood. In one hand, she held the shotgun by its grip, her finger lying right above the trigger. If she did encounter the monster, she only had three chances to put him down. </p><p>She stopped short of a cabin, sitting deep within the woods. Light seeped from the windows, through long sheer curtains. Clicking her flashlight off, she neared the cabin quietly, crouching under a window. A smell made her hand shoot up to her nose, and she stopped herself from gagging. She held the shotgun close to her torso, taking deep breaths. In her mind, she chanted a few words of encouragement. And she slowly raised to the window.</p><p>Peering in, she cringed at the sight. From the small opening between the curtains, Betty could see a man digging through the chest of a human body. Placing her other hand onto the shotgun’s forearm, she narrowed her eyes at the man’s back. A bite mark was evident on the nape of his neck, a remnant of when he was turned. Ducking back down, the brunette questioned if she would be able to kill him. Up until this point, she had only worked ghost cases, maybe one monster case that she hadn’t been able to resolve. So, she wasn’t exactly comfortable with shooting a living person, well, a former person.</p><p>She peered in once again, only to find the figure gone. A growl made her head snap to her left, a german shepherd bared his teeth at her. Betty stood up quickly, gun aimed at the dog.</p><p>“Good dog.” She nervously said, backing away as the dog near. The dog jumped at her, barking. Her trigger finger pulled, shooting in the direction of the dog but missing. The dog’s weight made her fall backward, making her slam into the ground. She raised her gun, stopping the skinwalker from biting her face, instead he bit the chamber. </p><p>“You should’ve left me alone.” He growled, drool falling onto the woman’s face. His claws dug into her torso, and he began to scratch at her face while pulling at the gun. Betty kneed the dog’s stomach, causing him to wince. She took the opportunity to shake him off of her gun and kick him off. Standing, she aimed the weapon at the dog again, pumping the forearm.</p><p>“Skinwalkers usually hunt in packs,” she began as the two circled each other. “Are you all alone? Or are you hunting for others?” The skinwalker growled. </p><p>“Shut your mouth.” He cried, her eyes softened at the pain in his voice. “I never asked to be this way.” She couldn’t help but feel for the monster, he had once been human, once had hopes and dreams.</p><p>“No, you didn’t.” She began, nearing him. “But you don’t have to be a monster like those who bit you.” She continued, lowering the gun slightly. “You can be different.” </p><p>“No, I can’t.” He growled, swiping at the brunette. She dodged it, tripping over a stray branch and falling backward again. Her trigger finger pulled in reaction, causing her to fire another silver bullet. Pumping the gun as fast as she could, she aimed for the canine body that jumped at her.</p><p>A gunshot rang through the dark woods. Betty felt her heartbeat quickly, she took deep breaths to calm herself down. Pushing the limp body off of her, she sat up. She closed her eyes, focusing. The scratches on her face and torso began to fade, leaving behind blood as their only marks of existence. Opening her eyes, she looked to the cabin and stood.</p><p>She ripped the curtains down, wrapping them around the bodies of Audrey’s parents. She collected wood to build a pyre, her eyes caught the skinwalker’s body and she began to build a second smaller one. She sat, watching the two pyres go up in smoke just as the sun began to rise. Closing her eyes, she mumbled a prayer. A prayer that Audrey’s parents know that their daughter will be safe, and a prayer that the skinwalker will find peace in death. Before leaving, she shed her blood-soaked suit jacket, throwing it into the fire.</p><p>“Audrey!” She called out returning to the house, she was met with silence. Opening the door to the girl’s room, she blinked away her tiredness and headed to the closet. The redhead was asleep, snuggled close to the stuffed bunny. The brunette reached a gentle hand to the girl’s shoulder, shaking her lightly. “Audrey.” Tired blue eyes blinked open, smiling at Betty’s face.</p><p>“Did you get the bad dog?” She asked, the woman nodded. “And mom and dad?” The brunette’s breath hitched in her throat, her mouth flapping open and close. “They’re not coming back, are they?” Sorrowful brown eyes looked away, and Betty pulled the young girl into a hug.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>The drive was quiet. The only sound being that of Audrey’s soft breathing as she slept in the backseat. Betty’s eyes were dry, she had been driving for over fourteen hours across five states. She adjusted herself in her seat, attempting to ignore her gut screaming at her to drive elsewhere. Looking at the houses that lined the one-way street of Peoria, Illinois, Betty parked in front of a small house. At the front door stood an older woman, who sent the brunette a smile and a wave as she neared the car.</p><p>“Betty,” she greeted as the younger woman rolled down her driver’s side window. “Golly, it’s been, what? Two months since you took off?” Betty chuckled, opening her door and stepping out.</p><p>“Four, Officer Cortez.” She corrected, leaning against her car and glancing at the still sleeping Audrey. The older woman shook her head at her.</p><p>“You know you can call me Alex,” Alex said, giving the young woman a soft shove. “It's what Joshua called me.” Betty tensed at what she said, Alex frowned. “Still no sign of him, huh?” The brunette sighed, shaking her head. Alex nodded sadly before glancing to the, now stirring, girl. “Is this the little girl you helped?” </p><p>“Yes,” Betty pulled the back door open and smiled at Audrey. “Audrey, we’re here.” The brunette unbuckled the girl’s seatbelt and stretched out a hand to her. Audrey grabbed it, jumping onto the sidewalk. “This is Officer Alexandria Cortez,” she introduced her, Alex smiled at the girl. “She’ll keep you safe, okay?” The redhead looked at Betty.</p><p>“Even from the dogs?” She questioned, the brunette nodded.</p><p>“Even from the dogs,” Betty assured, pulling out Audrey’s small suitcase from the floor of the backseat. “If you ever need me," she began, squatting in front of the young girl. "Officer Cortez has my number.” The redhead nodded, pulling the brunette into a hug.</p><p>“I’ll miss you.” She whispered into her ear, Betty hugged her back. Closing her eyes, she thought about her father.</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>Back on the road, Betty found the silence discomforting. Turning on the radio, Careless Whisper once again began to play. She enjoyed mumbling along to it, her father's lore book sat on the passenger seat beside her. A newspaper was tucked into one of the pages, and it was the next place Betty would be heading to.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Now I'm a Believer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Sam Winchester was having another vision. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He could tell because one moment he and Dean were in the Impala and the next they were walking through a hospital corridor at night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The following events were a blur in his mind. He and Dean drew their guns at a hooded figure that stood over a sick child. And then they were at a motel room, sitting on the floor while watching a video feed on a laptop.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then he saw her face. Brown eyes that reflected the light of the sun, long dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, and a smile that expressed fondness and familiarity.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The image of her had flashed for only a brief second before Sam found himself being flung backward through the events. Opening his eyes, he was once again met with the memory of Jess burning on the ceiling. </em>
</p><p>Sam shot up in the passenger seat of the Impala, breathing heavily and blinking at the daylight. Turning, he was met with Dean’s wide green eyes filled with concern.</p><p>“You okay there, Sammy?” He asked, looking back to the road but sparing the occasional glance toward his younger brother. “Looks like that was one hell of a nightmare.” Sam sighed, leaning back and letting his headrest on the top of the seats.</p><p>“Yeah, just,” the image of the dark-haired woman flashed through his mind again. “Just another nightmare.”</p><p>Betty peered into the window of a hospital corridor. Pulling the hood of a jacket too big for her down in reaction to a figure walking down the hall. She narrowed her eyes at the figure of a female nurse before recognizing who it was. Softly, she knocked on the window, startling the nurse.</p><p>“Hannah,” she began, pointing to the window’s latch. “Window, please.” Hannah let out a breath of relief, shaking her blonde hair at the brunette. Opening the window, she stood aside as Betty climbed in.</p><p>“Damn it, Betty.” The nurse began, closing the window behind the other woman. “You scared the crap out of me.” She placed a hand on her hip, giving Betty a look of annoyance. The brunette gave her a stressed smile and a shrug.</p><p>“Sorry, I barely got here and I couldn’t just wait until morning.” She argued in a hushed tone. “Especially not if the kids are as sick as you say they are.” Betty had remembered the phone call she had received from Hannah, just after wrapping up a ghost case in North Dakota. The blonde had called concerned about the mass amount of children that had fallen ill in the town of Fitchburg, Wisconsin, and asked the brunette for help.</p><p>“You really haven’t changed,” Hannah sighed, Betty tilted her head at her, not really understanding what she meant. “Since our internship together.” The nurse continued, motioning for Betty to follow her. “You were always running around, trying to help people. And then you ended up in a hospital bed yourself due to exhaustion.” The blonde chuckled, holding her clipboard close to her chest. </p><p>“Yeah, I remember,” Betty noted, Hannah noticed her slightly dismissive tone and frowned. “I was only in my first year, I was honestly surprised they even let me have the position.” She stated, getting into the conversation. Hannah brightened.</p><p>“Well, you were something of a prodigy.” She remarked, Betty gave her a disbelieving look making the nurse click her tongue at her. “Come on, Betty. You were on the same level as me, and I was in my second year of medical school.” The brunette shook her head in disagreement, causing Hannah to roll her eyes at her. “It’s the reason I called you.” Betty looked to the blonde, looking slightly downward due to their height difference. “Because maybe you’d know what it is and how to fix it.” Brown eyes looked down to the floor as they walked.</p><p>“I’ll try.” The door to the children’s ward stood before them, Betty could see through the window. Five children, connected to machines. It was a sight that would make anyone uneasy. The blonde opened the door for her, holding it open.</p><p>“I’ll be back in a few minutes, I’ve got rounds to do.” She motioned her head, signaling to the brunette to go on in. Betty nodded, stepping into the room and hearing the door close behind her.</p><p>Nearing the closest bed, Betty met a young boy. He was pale, hooked up to three different machines, and sweat made his brown hair stick to his forehead. Closing her eyes, she placed a hand onto the boy’s forehead. A bluish-white light shined from her palm, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. She opened her eyes and lifted her hand away from the boy. Whatever was affecting the children, it wasn’t physical. Maybe she needed to look again. Once more, she closed her eyes and rested her hand on the boy’s head. The sound of the door being kicked open made her eyes open and her breath hitch in her throat. </p><p>“Alright, step away from the kid and no one gets hurt.” It was a man’s voice. Betty lifted her hands, assuring that they were in the view of whoever was holding her at gunpoint. She turned, seeing two men. Both had guns on her, the shorter of the two motioned to her hood with his weapon. She hesitated, causing him to move the gun at her again.</p><p>"Woah, let's not get trigger happy here." She nervously said, the man glared at her.</p><p>“Drop the hood.” She slowly raised her hands to the hood of her jacket and quickly pulled it down. The taller of the two lowered his weapon in response.</p><p>“Dean, she’s the girl.” He began, Dean and Betty both looked at him confused. “The girl from my vision.” Dean turned back to Betty, examining her with a raised brow.</p><p>“She’s your dream girl?” The sound of squeaking shoes made all three turn to the kicked-in door.</p><p>“Betty,” Hannah began, doubled over and breathing heavily from running. “Is everything okay? I heard-” she cut herself off when she looked up, eyes narrowing at the two men. “Agents?”</p><p>Sam and Dean found themselves sitting across from the brunette in a Wisconsin diner. It was an incredibly awkward situation, none of them were going to deny that fact.</p><p>“So,” Sam began, calling attention to himself. Betty looked at him, stopping her hands that fumbled with a plastic straw. “Sorry about ambushing you back there.” Dean nodded along with his brother's apology.</p><p>“Yeah, thought you were the Shtriga.” He chuckled, reaching for a fry on the brunette’s plate. “Was gonna load you up with iron.” Sam elbowed his brother, receiving a grunt of pain in response and a glare.</p><p>“Shtriga.” Betty nodded, ignoring the brothers' quarrel in front of her as Dean hit Sam back. Reaching into the duffle bag that sat beside her, pulling out the old and worn lore book. She pushed her plate to the side, allowing Dean to continue grabbing her fries. Sam’s eyebrows quirked as she lay the book down and flipped through its pages. He noted that along with extensive texts filled with information about different creatures, there were also notes in the margin that included facts that failed to make the print. “That’s why I couldn’t heal them.” She mumbled, Sam blinked at her.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Dean asked, munching on a fry. Brown eyes looked at him, wide and slightly caught off guard. To Sam, it seemed like she had forgotten the two were sitting across from her.</p><p>“Oh, no hard feelings.” She quipped, looking back down at the book. Dean shot Sam a look, motioning to the brunette as he scoffed. </p><p>“That’s not what I meant.” She looked back at him, straightening up in her seat. “What do you mean by ‘heal them’?” Her mouth opened to an o-shape, and she hesitantly closed the book. She closed her mouth, and Sam could tell that she was arguing with herself.</p><p>“You can tell us, Betty.” He stated, giving her a small smile. “You can trust us.” The brunette looked from him to her book before sighing and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.</p><p>“Alright,” she began, motioning for them to lean in and they do. “About five months ago, I got home from college, summer vacation.” The two brothers nodded along. “I was worried because my dad hadn’t called in months, all I found was a note saying that he was going to return to hunting and to not look for him.” Sam and Dean glanced at each other, the story sounding kind of familiar. “Then,” she hesitated, looking to the boys with caution. Both blinked at her, curious and nodding for her to continue. “I found his lore book and his car, and he would never leave these things behind. So, I took off to look for him, and left college.” She continued motioning to the brothers. “On my first cast, I got hurt and the wound just healed on its own. After that, I started to learn how to control whatever it is.” Sam furrowed his brows at her.</p><p>“Magic?” He questioned, she shook her head and shrugged.</p><p>“I don’t know.” She shoved the straw she had been fumbling with into a glass of water sitting on the table. “I’m hoping my dad will have an answer.” Taking the straw into her mouth, she bit at it. “When I find him.” Sam admired the confidence in her voice and the look of determination she shot at the two. Then it dawned on him.</p><p>“Wait, when did you say your powers started manifesting?” Dean and Betty shot him a look, wondering why it mattered.</p><p>“Uh, five months ago, June 2005.” She answered with a shrug. “Why?” Suddenly, his eyes became blank, leaving the brunette to raise an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“He’s thinking,” Dean informs her, stealing yet another fry from her plate. Betty glanced at him, wondering how she had gotten herself into the situation. She took another sip from her water, setting it down to stare at the listless man. Sam snapped back to reality with a breathless laugh.</p><p>“That’s when I first started having visions. Three months before you came to get me, Dean.” He gave both a bright smile as if he had pieced together the world’s most complicated puzzle. Betty raised her hand.</p><p>“Visions?” She asked, pointing to Sam. “You said you saw me in a vision.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair.</p><p>“Yeah, uh, m-maybe we’re connected.” He proposed, motioning with his hands between the two. Her eyes looked at his hands before meeting his eyes again, confusion was evident. “Obviously, your powers are p-physical and mine a-are mental.” He continued, sputtering in attempts to make sense. “Maybe our powers originate from the same place.” Now that caught her attention. </p><p>“You think?” She leaned forward, a hopeful look in her brown irises. Sam replied with a nod, shuffling closer. Dean cleared his throat, causing the two to turn to him.</p><p>“Listen, I’d hate to break up this Magic: The Gathering convention,” he began, shoving five fries into his mouth. “But we have a Shtriga to hunt before it goes underground again.” Sam frowned at his brother, here he was finding someone who was like him, yet Dean was rushing him.</p><p>“Dean’s right,” the brunette began with a nod. “We have to kill it, it’s the only way the kids will get better.” Sam looked at her, despite her excitement at meeting someone similar, it was clear that her top priority was to save the children. </p><p>Dean exited the Impala after pulling into their motel’s parking lot. He whistled at Betty’s car as she parked in the space beside him.</p><p>“Nice wheels, Bets.” She gave him a strained smile at the nickname, and she stepped out of her car.</p><p>“Thanks, Dee.” Both stared at each other with passive-aggressive smiles, waiting for the other to give in. Sam coughed into his hand as he exited the Impala, breaking the staring contest between the two. “Do you guys have weapons?” Dean scoffed at her question.</p><p>“Do we have weapons?” He chuckled, motioning for the brunette to follow him. Opening the trunk, Dean looked to Betty, expecting her to be impressed, but she looked in with a bored stare. “What?” He asked, Betty, looked at him blankly. “Not cool enough?” She stifled a giggle at him, shaking her head.</p><p>“Well, mine’s bigger.” She remarked with a smirk, leading the two to her trunk. Dean gave her a look as she opened it, glancing in before it completely caught his attention. </p><p>“Woah.” Dean leaned into the trunk, Betty looked to Sam over his older brother’s hunched shape. She shot him a friendly smile, which he returned. </p><p>“Hey, you three!” Instantly, Dean jumped back from the trunk and Betty slammed it closed. The three turned to the voice’s origin, a small boy. He stood with his hands on his hips and narrowed eyes.</p><p>“Oh, hey Michael.” Sam greeted awkwardly, Betty glanced at Dean.</p><p>“The motel owner’s kid.” He explained, she nodded in understanding. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, rugrat?” Michael crossed his arms at the three adults that stood before him.</p><p>“My mom left me in charge, she’s going to stay at the hospital with Asher.” He stepped closer to the three, attempting to peer into the still opened trunk of the Impala. Moving quickly, Dean shut it before the boy could peek inside. “You three know what’s going on here, don’t you?”</p><p>“No idea what you’re talking about.” Sam smiled. The boy frowned, stepping closer to them.</p><p>“Can you fix it?” He asked, his expression softening a bit. “Can you help my brother get better?” Sam and Dean glanced at each other, a plan devising in both of their minds. Betty looked from Sam to Dean, wondering just what they were thinking.</p><p>“We can,” Dean began. “But, we’re gonna need your help.”</p><p>The trio sat in the master bedroom of the motel owner’s house, just down the hall from Michael’s room. Dean and Sam sat on the bed, watching a live feed of Michael’s room on a laptop. Betty sat on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, loading a handgun with iron bullets.</p><p>“I don’t know how I feel about using the kid as bait.” Sam pondered out loud, breaking the silence. Dean glanced at him, only for a split second.</p><p>“Well, what other option do we have?” He questioned. Sam frowned at his older brother, turning to look at Betty. The brunette pulled the slide of the gun, yawning and letting her weight completely fall onto the bed behind her. Sam raised from the bed, Dean watching him settle down next to Betty from the corner of his eye.</p><p>“So, you know how to handle a gun.” The woman stared at him blankly, making Sam regret opening his mouth. Dean stifled a laugh, covering it up with a cough when his younger brother glared at him. Betty smiled, setting the gun down on the floor beside her.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, my dad trained me.” She nodded. “Made me learn how to take all types of guns apart and put them back together when I was six.” Betty looked to the window in front of them, looking at the star-filled sky. Sam followed her line of sight, allowing himself to relax against the bed, mirroring her relaxed posture.</p><p>“So, you’ve been hunting since you were a kid?” The brunette nodded her head, not looking at him.</p><p>“Well,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “I've always seemed to attract the supernatural.” Sam looked at her from the corner of his eye, noting a freckle on the left of her jawline. </p><p>“So, you, um,” she finally opened her eyes and looked at him with furrowed brows. “You know a lot of lore?” She nodded, relaxing her features.</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” She smiled, chuckling at a memory that suddenly hit her. “Where normal kids memorized timetables at the kitchen table with their fathers, I memorized monsters and their weaknesses.” Sam let out a small laugh in response, hearing Dean snort through his nose from his place on the bed. The brunette’s smile slowly fell, and she returned her gaze to the window. “When my mom died, he told me that he wanted me to be his hunting partner when I grew up.” Both brothers glanced at each other, Dean returning his gaze to the laptop screen and Sam looking back at the woman’s profile. </p><p>“Our dad is the same,” Sam began, resting his head onto the bed and closing his eyes. “After our mom died, he became obsessed with finding the demon that killed her and making him pay.” His eyes opened and met hers as she glanced at him. “Saving people and killing things, it became the family business, as he calls it.” Her ears perked up at this, eyebrows quirking and head tilting slightly.</p><p>“My dad calls it a legacy.” Sam could hear Dean shuffle on the bed, nearing the edge they were leaning against. “He came from a long line of hunters, he wanted me to be like him. To take up the family mantle, I guess.” She continued, looking away from the man. "But my mom, she begged me to stay out of hunting. She didn't want that life for me." Sam watched her sink down slightly, eyes closing and breathing slowing a bit. Dean looked to her, noting that she seemed tired.  </p><p>“And what do you want?” Dean questioned, looking back to the camera feed. Betty sighed, her past few sleepless nights beginning to hit her.</p><p>“I-,” she began, sighing. "I don't know."</p><p>Sam eyed the brunette’s sleeping face from his place on the bed beside Dean. She had fallen asleep half an hour ago, leaning against the bed. Dean yawned, rubbing his eyes and letting out a groan.</p><p>“Nothing’s happening.” He complained, letting himself fall back onto the bed as Sam looked at the feed. The younger brother nodded, it had been two hours since they had set everything up and nothing. Not even a breeze.</p><p>“Maybe it’s going after some other kid tonight.” Sam reasoned, leaning toward the screen. That’s when he saw it, the latch on the window slowly being pulled open. He hit his brother’s leg, causing Dean to shoot up. “It’s here.” Shooting up, Dean grabbed a shotgun that leaned against the bed.</p><p>“Let’s go.” Sam stood, grabbing his brother. He gestured his arm to the sleeping brunette.</p><p>“What about Betty?” He asked. “Should we wake her?” Dean shook his head, pumping the forearm of his shotgun.</p><p>“Just let her sleep,” he began, grabbing a handgun from off a nearby drawer and shoving it into Sam’s hands. “Now, come on. Let’s kill this thing.” Sam watched his older brother slowly open the door to the master bedroom, motioning for him to follow as he did an exaggerated roll out of the room. The younger brother scoffed, glancing at Betty before following behind Dean. </p><p>Quickly opening the door to Michael’s room, Sam expected to see the Shtriga feeding on the sleeping boy. But there was nothing, lowering their guns, they looked to a waking Michael. </p><p>“This doesn’t make any sense,” Dean began, nearing the window that's latch was still locked. “What the hell is this thing doing?” Sam shrugged, nearing Michael to check on him. The sound of a window squeaking open made them turn to the corridor, Sam glanced at Dean with confusion. “Is that coming from the master bedroom?” Sam’s confusion dropped in realization.</p><p>“Betty.” Dean’s facial expressions mirrored his brother’s. “Michael, stay here,” Sam told the boy, he and Dean ran out of his room. Looking toward the room at the end of the hall, the brothers could see a cloaked figure nearing the sleeping brunette. </p><p>“Hey!” Dean yelled, the monster snapped its head in its direction letting out a screech as the door slammed closed in front of it. Nearing the door, Dean pulled at the doorknob but it didn’t budge. </p><p>“Move back, Dean,” Sam ordered, stuffing his handgun into his waistband and grabbing Dean’s shotgun. Dean stared at him, confused as to what he was going to do. The younger brother gave him a look, motioning with the gun for him to move aside. “Move!” Dean jumped back and Sam shot the doorknob off. Both rammed into the door, successfully breaking through it. </p><p>The Shtriga hovered over Betty, its jaw unhinged as it absorbed the woman’s soul. The sound of a forearm being pumped made the creature turn with its jaw still opened, met with a shotgun aimed at its face. And Sam fired. The creature began to die, evaporating into the air with an ear-splitting scream. The brunette gasped awake, Sam ran to her side, checking her for any injuries.</p><p>“You okay?” He questioned, she nodded, calming herself down as she coughed. Sam sighed in relief, giving her a pat on the back. “You’re okay.” Dean squatted, picking up the cloak that remained. He looked at the two, flashing them a smug smile.</p><p>“Guess bullets make the witch evaporate, huh, Dorothy?” He laughed at his own joke, Sam and Betty gave him a look before looking at each other with tired expressions.</p><p>Betty slammed her trunk closed, daylight shining down on her. Looking to the front desk, she could see Michael playing with his little brother, Asher. She smiled, thankful that the children had woken up shortly after Sam killed the Shtriga.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” She turned to the voice, finding Sam walk toward her. “Ya know, after almost getting your soul sucked out of your body.” That got a laugh out of her, a November breeze blowing through her hair. </p><p>“I’m good, Sam.” She nodded, leaning against the back of her car. “I should thank you for saving my life. I owe you one, that’s for sure.” Sam shook her head, leaning beside her and crossing his arms.</p><p>“You don’t owe me anything, Betty.” He told her, she shot him a grateful smile, looking to the ground and kicking a pebble. Sam licked his lips, a question on the tip of his tongue. “Where do you think our powers come from?” He asked, she stopped kicking at the pebble. Looking at Sam, the sun hit her eyes slightly.</p><p>“When I found the letter my dad left,” she began, looking away from him. "He left me a clue of where he would've gone, to Philadelphia." He stared at her as she talked, noting red undertones in her hair. "When I got there, I said a prayer." Sam's mouth slightly opened at her words. "I asked God for help, assistance in finding my father." Turning back to him, she could see the doubt in his face. "Is it really that hard to believe? That God would help us?” She smiled at him, the sun reflecting off of her brown eyes, and the ends of her hair curling slightly. Hazel eyes searched her face as his mouth closed in a smile.</p><p>“I can believe that.” He agreed.</p><p>“Ready, Sammy!” Dean called out, closing their motel door behind him. Sam shot up, hesitating to walk toward the Impala. Shuffling into his jean pocket, he offered her a folded piece of paper. She takes it, unfolding it to find a phone number.</p><p>“Just,” he began, she looked back up at him. “If you ever need us, just call.” Giving her a wry laugh, he smiled. She nodded, shoving the paper into her pocket and pulling out a pen. The brunette stood from leaning, grabbing onto the man’s hand. She uncapped the pen with her teeth and began to write on his palm. He watched her write, a bit confused as to what she was doing.</p><p>“There,” she started, capping the pen and meeting Sam’s eyes. He looked at his palm, numbers and a name staring back at him. “Now we have each other’s numbers.” He met her eyes again. “I hope you find your father.” She offered, he nodded.</p><p>“I hope you find yours too.”</p><p>Sam sat in the passenger’s seat of the Impala, an annoyed look on his face as his brother heaved with laughter. Dean would stop, look at Sam, and then begin laughing again. </p><p>“She believes in God!” He shouted, still laughing. Sam scoffed at Dean, rolling his eyes. “I mean, come on, Sammy.” Dean began, a little more serious. “If God really existed why would he let people suffer?” Sam’s mouth slightly opened, he searched for a way to justify Betty's beliefs. “See, you can’t even answer that.” The younger brother huffed.</p><p>“Does it really matter?” He asked, earning a look from Dean. “She believes that her powers are good,” Sam explained, looking back to the road in front of them. “Is it so crazy to believe that God might be helping us?” Dean furrowed his brows at him.</p><p>“Wow,” he began, catching Sam’s attention. “You really believe that?” Sam shrugged, looking out the passenger side window.</p><p>“You didn’t see the look on her face, Dean.” He argued. “She really believes it. And,” he cut himself off with a sigh. “And maybe I do too.” Silence filled the car, Sam watching the passing surroundings through his window.</p><p>“So,” Dean began, focusing on the road. “What you’re saying is that you saw her face,” Sam’s brows furrowed at the scenery. “And, now you’re a believer?” The younger brother turned to Dean with narrowed eyes. Dean looked at him, eyes wide and an open mouth smile, waiting for a laugh. Sam shook his head, looking forward. </p><p>“Yeah, Dean.” He gave in, raising his palm to look at the numbers scribbled on it. “Now I’m a believer.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Full Circle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> June 14, 2005: Peoria, Illinois </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Betty walked up to the front door of a quaint suburban house, dragging two suitcases behind her and adjusting a duffle bag on her shoulder. Reaching the door, she reached into her pockets before realizing that her keys weren’t on her. She let out an exasperated sigh, letting her head fall back in annoyance.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Of course I packed them.” Setting her suitcases up to stand by themselves, she kneeled, pulling her pant leg up. Reaching behind the tongue of her boot, she pulled out a rolled-up lockpick set. She stood, picking out two of the tools. Leaning into the doorknob, she softly bit her tongue while fiddling with the lock. The sound of the door clicking made her let out a hum of victory. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The door opened, revealing a very mundane and empty foyer. Dropping the lock picks back into the tongue of her boot and grabbing onto her suitcases, she walked in and looked around. Her stomach turned at the emptiness, something she had been fearing to find for months. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dad.” She called out, locking the door behind her and abandoning her suitcases as she walked deeper into the house. “Dad? Did you break your phone again?” She questioned, hoping that he would answer back. Taking a turn into the living room, she spotted a picture of her mother and staring at it for a brief moment. “Dad?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through the living room, she got to the kitchen. The dining table sat smack in the center, and she stopped seeing her father’s jacket draped on one of the chairs, a folded piece of paper sitting in front of it. She let the duffle bag drop to the floor as she dashed to the table. Picking up her father’s jacket, she checked it for blood, letting out a sigh of relief at finding it clean. Glancing at the piece of paper, she hesitated to grab it. She gripped her father’s jacket, holding it close as she grabbed the paper and unfolded it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Elizabeth,” her full name, never a good sign. “I have been a bad father.” Licking her lips, she frowned at the sentence. “I tried to force you into accepting a life that you aren’t meant for. A life your mother would never want you to have.” She let out a shaky breath at the mention of her mom. “You deserve a better father.” She shook her head, rejecting the words in front of her. “I’m sorry. Please live your life the way you want. Don’t look for me.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she neared the end. “I will always love and be proud of you. Papa.” She let out a shaky, unbelieving breath, allowing herself to fall onto the chair beside her. One hand went up to her forehead, rubbing it as she reread the words on the paper.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Looking at it for what seemed to be the hundredth time, she straightened up. She was angry. It had finally dawned on her, her father had basically abandoned her. 'Don’t look for me'? Like hell that was happening. Standing from her seat, she looked at the jacket in her arms and tied it around her waist. Grabbing her duffle bag, she took off toward the stairs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The second floor of the house was as mundane as the first, except for a locked door that sat in the middle of the hallway. Pulling her lock picks out again, she forced them into the door lock and jiggled them. She cursed when one of them broke, looking around the hallway her eyes landed on the classic Winchester shotgun her father had on the wall. Grabbing it, she checked the mag and clicked her tongue when she realized it was empty. She looked to the butt of the weapon, an idea coming to mind. She held the gun with two hands, aiming for the doorknob. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sorry, dad.” She whispered, slamming the gun down onto the knob repeatedly. The doorknob broke apart, the brunette threw the scratched-up gun to the side. Leaning up against the door, she slammed her side into it a few times before successfully breaking through. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was her father’s study, it had always been locked and hidden from view. Looking around, she was looking for something specific. A key. The key to her father’s most beloved car, and if it was still here, it would mean something. She pulled books out of the shelves that lined the room, knowing that her father would’ve hidden them out of sight.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Books lay scattered on the ground, the shelves empty. Betty’s hope was diminishing, looking to the desk that sat at the very back of the room. She doubted that her father would’ve put the key in such an obvious place, but then again she never really understood what he was thinking.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nearing the desk, she opened the middle drawer and her eyes widened. There sat her father’s lore book, thick and worn. Lifting it, she let out a breath of confusion. Her father never went anywhere with his lore book, not even to a simple salt and burn. That’s when she noticed a clipping from a newspaper peeking out of one of the pages. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Opening the book, the clipping was from a Philadelphia newspaper. It discussed the mysterious deaths of successful people, animal attacks in impossible places. On the top of the newspaper, written in ink, was the word ‘werewolf?’ written. Looking at the page it was stuck in, Betty saw the illustration of a werewolf. Raising the book closer, something fell from it causing her to jump up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> On the ground sat the small silver key of her father’s car. Quickly squatting down, she scooped it up and let out a breathy chuckle. Gripping the key in her hand, she stood and headed down to the house’s entrance. She flipped her suitcases onto their backs, unzipping them and searching through her clothes. She stuffed whatever she deemed necessary into her duffle bag along with her father’s lore book.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Zipping her duffle bag closed, she once again walked through the living room. She stopped short of a picture frame of her mother, grabbing it and taking it with her. Going through the kitchen, she opened the door that connected to the garage. There sat her father’s prized car, a black 1965 Chevrolet Chevelle Malibu. She softly nodded at it, a feeling of warmth and nostalgia filling her chest. Shaking her head, she rounded to the car’s trunk. Opening it, she pulled the false bottom. She smiled finding two similar boxes, one filled with fake IDs and the other with the many phones her father had prepared for hunting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shut the trunk, clicking the garage door open. Getting into the driver’s seat, she let her hands grip the leather steering wheel and breathe in. She threw her duffle bag into the backseat, starting the car and pulling out the garage.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As the garage closed behind her, she let out a sigh and began on her journey to Philadelphia. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Present-day: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania</p><p>Betty softly inhaled, the December sun hitting her eyes through one of the backseat windows as she stirred awake. She had fallen asleep at a rest stop, laying on her back, her father’s jacket draped over her and his lore book in her hands. She stretched, groaning when her back cracked.</p><p>“Holy-” she cut herself off before she cursed. Despite being on the road for six months now, she couldn’t get used to sleeping in her car's backseat, something she had to resort to often. Sitting up, her father’s jacket fell to her lap and the lore book drooped down, opened to a certain page. </p><p>Leaning her head from side to side, she put the lore book onto the seat next to her and pulled her father’s jacket on. She yawned, grabbing the book and weakly throwing it to the front seats. Putting her hands onto the back of the front seats, she lazily threw herself over it. She landed on her back, staying in her position for a few minutes before sitting up and cracking her fingers. As she started the car, the box of phones on her dashboard began to vibrate. Searching through the piles of phones, she pulled out one labeled FBI.</p><p>“Hello?” She greeted, flipping it open and answering. </p><p>“Are you nearby, Betty?” Recognizing the male voice, she cleared her throat and shuddered at a winter breeze entering one of the car’s slightly opened windows. She glared at it, not recalling when she would have opened it. </p><p>“I’m about a few miles from the city,” she began, rolling the window up and folding her arms around her torso in an attempt to warm herself. “I’ll be there in an hour or two.” A huff came from the man, and the brunette furrowed her brows. “Hey, I’m driving up from Louisiana, Meyers. Cut me some slack.”</p><p>“No, it’s not that,” Meyers stated, Betty could hear him sigh. “It’s just that we got a few more bodies. And I know who the next victim is gonna be.” The brunette buckled her seat belt, beginning to pull out of the rest stop and onto the road. </p><p>“Who?” She asked.</p><p>“Jill Caragin,” he began, she could hear him rustling a paper. “She came in five hours ago, talking about a dog stalking her. I’ve got her here in the station, she’ll probably still be here when you arrive.” </p><p>“Alright, I’m on my way.”</p><p>“Call me when you get here.” She nodded to herself, flipping the phone closed and ending the call. Sighing, she felt the silence was uncomfortable. She flipped her radio on, switching through the stations. Skipping over a few sad songs, she landed on the upbeat tune of Wannabe. She put her focus back on the road, not really hearing the song playing in the background. All she could think about was her father and the pit that was growing in her stomach as she headed back to the beginning.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> June 16, 2005: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The brunette pulled into the parking lot of a small motel. Parking the car, she searched her duffle bag for some cash or her wallet. Finding neither, she let out a groan at her unpreparedness. Her brown eyes landed on the glove compartment. Opening it, she wasn’t surprised to find a small box which was filled with cash and credit cards. Now, she wasn’t certain which ones actually had money and which ones were for maxing out. So, closing her eyes, she grabbed a random credit card and prayed for the best. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Hello.” She began, standing at the check-in desk. A teenage boy looked up from his comic at the sound of her voice. “A single room, please.” She placed the credit card onto the desk, pushing it toward the boy. He looked at the card and then back at her, squinting his eyes at her suspicious behavior. She simply smiled at him, a tad nervous. The teen grabbed her card, swiping it as the brunette stared intensely. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Alright,” he said in a chipper voice, handing her card back to her along with a key. “Room 4, right down the hall to your left.” He motioned with his hand, giving her a smile that revealed colorful braces. “Enjoy your stay.” Taking the card and key, she returned the smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uh, thank you.” She took off toward the left hallway, hearing the boy pick his comic book up once again. Entering her room, she released a sigh as she let herself fall onto the motel bed. She had been driving for about fourteen hours, only taking a break halfway for a measly hour. That, coupled with many worried sleepless nights during college, meant that Betty was dying of exhaustion. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The soft blanket underneath her made her eyes droop, the setting sun outside of her window making her sleepier. With the last of her energy, she let her bag fall off of the bed and wrapped herself up in the comforter. Just before she fell asleep, she said a prayer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dear Heavenly Father, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I come to you for strength and mercy. Please, help me find my father. Watch over him and keep him safe. Watch over me and grant me the strength and perseverance to keep going.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Amen. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Present-day: </p><p>The brunette leaned against her car door, straightening her father’s coat. She was just outside of  Philadelphia’s police station, waiting in the cold. The sound of a door opening made her look up from fidgeting with her sleeves.</p><p>“Rivera.” She smiled at the familiar man’s greeting, watching him walk up beside her.</p><p>“Chief Meyers,” she greeted back, he pushed a file toward her. “These the recent victims?” She asked, opening the file and being caught off guard by pictures of the bodies. Her small breakfast threatened to come back up, causing her to close the file and shove it back to the Chief. He laughed at her reaction.</p><p>“Still not used to it, huh?” Giving him a playful glare, she shook her head and began to zip up her jacket. “Well, it’s the same deal as last time,” he began, leaning beside her. “Animal attacks in unrealistic places, targeting rich douchebags.” He regretted his choice of words when she shot him a disappointed look. “Anyway, Mrs. Caragin is sitting in the station. She fits the profile for whatever this thing goes after, rich and a little,” she looked at him, waiting to hear what word he would use. He gave her a look back. “Stuck up.” She nodded approvingly, looking back to the dreary town. The clouds were gray and heavy, foretelling of an impending snowstorm.</p><p>“It’s a Crossroads Demon,” she told him. “It strikes up deals with people and then, in ten years, it collects.” Meyers looked at her, noting a faraway look in her brown eyes.</p><p>“Collects what?” His voice slightly shook with regret of asking.</p><p>“Their soul.” She replied without looking at him. Breathing in deeply, she stopped leaning against her car and trudged over to her trunk. Opening it, she motioned for Meyers to come near. He looked into her trunk, seeing two bags sitting on the false bottom. She grabbed one and handed it off to him. Opening it, Meyers swat away at a dust-like substance that hit his face.</p><p>“What is this shit?” This time he ignored that look she shot him, coughing at whatever went into his lungs. The brunette took the bag from him, like a teacher taking a disrupting toy from a troublesome student, picking up the other bag and holding them out to the man. </p><p>“Goofer dust,” she stated, pushing one of the bags into his hand. “Devil’s shoestring.” She raised the other bag, throwing it to his opened hand. He caught it, looking at her in confusion. “The demons use Hellhounds to collect, sprinkle those in every entryway and it will stop them from entering.” Leaning back into the trunk, slightly raising the false bottom, she pulled out a revolver. In a swift motion, she flipped open the cylinder. “Silver will hurt the nightmare pups, maybe even kill them.” She squinted into the chamber, snapping it closed when seeing it fully loaded.</p><p>“Maybe?” He questioned, setting one of the bags down onto the hood of her trunk. She shrugged, spinning the chamber and handing it to the man.</p><p>“Don’t really know,” she answered, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “My father never killed one, only maimed one.” Meyers examined the gun, eyes shifting back up to the young woman. </p><p>“Why did you only grab one gun?” He asked, she stiffened and sighed. Pulling a small tin from her jacket’s pocket, she fiddled with it before opening it.</p><p>“Picture, graveyard dirt, bone of a black cat,” she showed to him, closing the tin and shoving it back into her pocket. “I’m gonna summon it.” He gave her a look, gaping at her. She, in turn, stared at him blankly with a patient smile, letting him process her words.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he began, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna what now?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> June 17, 2005: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The brunette let out a large yawn, blinking away tears of tiredness. Stepping out of the Malibu, she straightened out her suit. It had been a suit that she used for interviews, it was the same one that she wore when she landed her first internship.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shaking the thought out of her head, she looked to the fake FBI badge on her belt. She sighed, mentally preparing herself to enter the intimidating building.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The station was crowded, people scattered all over, most talking in low voices. The brunette noticed that all of them kept glancing to her left. Turning her head, Betty’s eyes caught a man, disheveled and wrapped in a blanket. He was sitting in a stray chair, shaking and mumbling to himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Invisible, invisible.” He kept repeating, just barely above a whisper. Two uniformed officers stood over him, talking amongst themselves, more like complaining.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Can I help you?” Looking to her right, in the direction of the voice, she met the eyes of the station’s secretary, Allison written on her name tag. She had bright blue eyes and short blonde hair, perky despite the obvious looming sense of doom in the building. Betty cleared her throat, glancing back at the man as she neared the woman’s desk. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Agent Scott,” she introduced herself, lifting her badge from her belt. “I’m here to see the Chief.” The blonde blinked at her before an excited smile was plastered on her face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wow, the FBI!” She let out an excited squeal that caught Betty off guard. “Is there, like, a serial killer in Philly?” The brunette raised an eyebrow at the other woman. Opening her mouth to answer, she was interrupted by Allison’s hand shooting up. “Oh, silly me, you can’t talk about ongoing investigations.” The blonde giggled, she motioned a hand toward an office. “Chief Meyers is in there.” Shaking off her confused state, Betty looked to the office’s door. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Uh, thank you.” Stepping away quickly, she could feel the blonde's eyes bore into the back of her head. Reaching the door, she knocked, waiting for a response. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Come on in.” A man’s voice responded. Opening the door, the brunette found him hunched over his desk. Multiple files lay scattered about on his desk, his grey eyes stared at them intensely as he held his chin in thought. Betty closed the office’s door behind her, blocking out the station’s murmurs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Chief Meyers,” she waited until he looked at her. He seemed to be around her father’s age, worn tired eyes and a stressed look that communicated years of being a public servant. “I’m agent Scott, I’m here looking into the strange deaths.” Tilting her head, she caught a glimpse of an autopsy photo. It was of a woman, her torso ripped to shreds and a look of fear frozen on her features. In reaction, she let out a shaky breath that Meyers caught. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “First time seeing a body?” He chuckled at her reaction, picking up an especially gruesome picture and putting it in her line of sight. She grimaced, nodding her head and taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. In her mind she was attempting to formulate her next sentence, to make it sound as convincing as possible. “So, are you actually FBI?” Her eyes shot up in reaction to his words, instantly giving her away. The man simply chuckled and shook his head. “Hunter.” She shook off her shock, sputtering. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Y-you know about hunters?” He nodded, collecting the papers that were scattered on his desk. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yup, had one come in a few weeks ago,” he began, opening his drawer and pulling out a large pile of files. “Was hunting whatever the hell is killing people.” The brunette took the top file, opening it and looking in. “I assumed he had figured it out because the killings stopped and he just up and left, but they’ve started again.” Eyes glancing from him to the files, Betty stopped at a post-it note. The familiar handwriting made her let out a scoff as she unstuck it from the file. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That was my father.” She told the chief, closing the file and staring at the floor. “And he did figure it out,” she began, looking at the man and showing off the sticky note. “But whatever it was wouldn’t show itself to him.” Her eyes settled on the note and she read the one word written. “Bust.” It was her father’s shorthand meaning; ‘nothing can be done, at least not by me’. Meyers shook his head, leaning back in his seat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Did he leave anything saying what it could be?” He questioned. The brunette flipped through the rest of the file, failing to find any useful information. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Of course not,” she glanced up at the older man. “Did he know that you knew he was a hunter?” The chief shook his head, causing Betty to let a groan of annoyance and throw her head back. “Damn it, dad.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The brunette was back in her motel room, sitting on the bed and flipping through the pages of her father’s lore book. She didn’t blame her father for not leaving more obvious clues behind, he never wanted to drag oblivious people into the ugly truth. She only wished that he had done the same for her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Absentmindedly flipping through the pages, she brought a hand up to her forehead and closed her eyes in a sigh. With her eyes still closed, she moved to shut the lore book but winced in response to a gnarly papercut across her palm. She wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t been for the pain and red liquid that began to seep out of it. Holding her hand, she watched her blood begin to spill out. Then the strangest thing happened. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The cut began to close with a white light running down it, cutting off the flow of blood. She stared in confusion, using her other hand to wipe away the blood and feel for the cut as it fully closed. In silent confusion, she looked around the room almost as if someone would explain what just occurred.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>”What the f-“</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Present-day:</p><p>Betty was mentally crossing off her checklist. </p><p>Chief Meyers was with Mrs. Caragin. Protecting her in her fancy top-floor penthouse. Check.</p><p>The sun had set, and time was nearing dawn. Bringing her wrist up to her line of sight, she moved the sleeve of her jacket back and noted that the time was 3 am. Witching hour. Check</p><p>She was just outside the city limits, on a lonely crossroad. A shallow hole smack in the center, the tin waiting patiently to be covered. Check.</p><p>Her hand still in her pocket fidgeted with something inside it. Using her foot, she covered the box with dirt. And she waited. A minute passed, causing the brunette to look around. She turned, her eyes looking to the distance. Frowning, she wondered if she did something wrong. If she, just like her father, had failed.</p><p>“My, my,” whipping around to the voice, Betty was met with a tall blonde man. The man blinked his grey eyes, and when they opened they were completely red. “If it isn’t baby Rivera.” The red faded from his eyes as he stepped forward. “It all comes full circle, doesn’t it?” A smirk danced across his lips. “So, what can I do you for?” Betty cringed at his wording, restraining from rolling her eyes.</p><p>“I want you to cancel your deals.” The demon gave her an amused look, his eyes widening and lips curling up mockingly. </p><p>“Oh, you would, wouldn’t you?” His tone was filled with restrained laughter that made Betty narrow her eyes at him. “You and your father,” he began, stepping around the woman, circling her. “Always have to play the part of the hero. There’s a reason no one responded to your father.” Betty eyed the demon, watching him continue to circle her.</p><p>“And that is?” She questioned now moving her head to follow the demon's path. The demon chuckled, halting in his pacing and turning to the brunette.</p><p>“He is a threat to demonkind,” he began, his smile falling into a frown. “Let’s just say he was unofficially banned from our services. Not that he wanted them anyway.” Turning away, the demon looked off into the distance. Betty followed his line of sight, catching sight of the tall building he was staring at. The building that Mrs. Caragin’s penthouse resided. Licking her dry lips, the brunette swallowed her nervousness. </p><p>“And what about me?” The demon shot her a confused look from the side of his eyes, Betty turned to him. “I’m his daughter, just as much of a threat.” She hadn’t expected the demon to laugh in her face the way he did.</p><p>“Ha!” Betty stared at the demon as he doubled over in laughter, she kept an unamused look on her face, glancing off into the distance as he continued to laugh at her. “Real funny, baby Rivera.” He started, wiping a tear of laughter from his cheek. “You’re nothing like your father.” The demon felt a sense of accomplishment at the reaction he managed to get out of the brunette, the way her eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed in the offense. “You didn’t even make a Devil’s Trap. What kind of hunter hunts a demon without making a Devil’s Trap?” He stopped circling her, standing in front of the human he had managed to rile up. </p><p>“Yeah,” Betty began, pulling her hand out of her pocket. The demon looked to her hands, seeing a matchbook that the brunette fidgeted with. Breaking a match off, she struck it. Their eyes met, the brunette’s face illuminated by the flame as she raised it. “Guess I’m really stupid.” The demon’s smile fell. Betty grinned at him, letting the match fall. Landing on the floor, the match set off the gasoline that the brunette had poured earlier, entrapping the demon in a Devil’s Trap made of fire. The demon looked down in shock, the flames trapping him in the center of the star.</p><p>“No!” The demon attempted to jump at Betty, only to be forced back by the barrier of the trap. “Let me go.” He demanded. </p><p>“Cancel your deals.” The demon stared at the woman, breathing heavily. Letting out a huff through his nose, the demon raised his hand and snapped his fingers. </p><p>“There,” he began, letting his hand drop to his side. “Now let me go.” Betty nodded, moving her foot to kick dirt at the flame, but she stopped. Glancing back up to the demon, she withdrew her foot. The demon took notice. “What are you doing?” The brunette shrugged, stuffing her hands and matchbook into her pockets.</p><p>“Well, I could let you out,” she began. “But then you would just go back to making deals.” Betty looked back to the demon, seeing his eyes turn completely red. “So, how about I just send you back to hell?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. She wasn’t about to give the demon a choice, but she was going to give it the same amount of taunting it had dealt.</p><p>“I’ll just claw my way out again.” The demon stated smiling smugly, the brunette frowned at his words. “I’ve done it before, I will do it again.” Betty let out a sigh, looking off toward the city lights. The demon had a point, as infuriating as it was to admit, performing an exorcism would be, at most, a mere inconvenience. </p><p>“Then I’ll just leave you here.” She concluded, smiling at the demon. Beginning to walk away, she ignored the demonic creature's cries. “Have fun getting hit by a car!” She called out, opening the door of the Malibu.</p><p>“You’re a coward!” The demon yelled, fighting against the barrier. “That’s why your father abandoned you!” He could see the brunette freeze, standing there for a brief moment. “Yeah, your father abandoned you because you’re weak! Not fit to be a hunter!” The demon was proud, he had struck a chord, a manic feeling of accomplishment filling him. The feeling drained out of him when the brunette slammed the door of the Malibu closed with a force that shook the demon to his core. She turned ever so slowly, seemingly in attempts to contain her rage.</p><p>“Shut your mouth.” She ordered, nearing the still burning edge of the Devil’s Trap. The demon opened his mouth, finding no sound coming out. His hand went up to his vessel's throat, confused by his inability to speak. Looking back to the brunette, the demon shivered. He had never seen a human have such a cold and unfeeling look in their eyes, it terrified him that a human wearing such an expression had him at her mercy. “You are going back to hell.” She said the demon felt himself being cough. He was losing grip of his vessel, or rather being forced out. Falling to his knees, he continued to cough and gripped onto the dirt road. “Forever.” The demon looked back up at her, seeping out of his current body.</p><p>“What,” he managed to choke out, feeling himself sink into the ground and back to hell. “Are you?” He didn’t get a response, not that he expected one. The last thing he saw were those cold brown eyes staring into him, seeing past his vessel and exposing the ugly thing he had become. It was haunting.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> June 20, 2005: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s been three days,” Meyers began, setting a coffee down in front of the preoccupied brunette. She jumped slightly at the sound of the mug landing on the table, having been completely entranced by the case file she was reading. “No new victims.” He continued, taking a seat at his desk across from Betty. She closed the file, biting the inside of her cheek.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah,” she answered, throwing the file onto the chief’s desk and letting out a sigh. “Maybe whatever it goes underground.” Meyers watched her pull her lore book out of her duffle bag, he shook his head. He could note that she was tired, restless as her leg shook.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You can leave, ya know.” She looked up at him, halting from opening the large book. “You need to look for your old man. Besides,” he leaned back in his chair, raising his coffee-filled mug at her. “I’m here.” Betty furrowed her brows at him, shaking her head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, I need to-” she was cut off by a hand-raising at her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Family comes first.” She stared at him, letting out a sigh. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She closed her trunk, looking to the chief standing on the sidewalk beside her. Despite this feeling of guilt and sense of responsibility, she decided to listen to Meyers. Every day she spent in Philadelphia, her father moved further from her reach and she couldn’t risk losing him for good. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Goodbye, Meyers.” She said. In return, he tipped his hat to her, watching her enter the Malibu. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Till next time, Rivera.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Present-day:</p><p>Betty stared at the road in front of her. She was trying to shake off what happened, the strange feeling that had overcome her when the demon mentioned her father. Licking her lips, she noticed Meyers waving her down in front of the building. Beside him was an ambulance, EMTs loading an injured but still alive Mrs. Caragin into the vehicle. Parking the Malibu, she quickly excited and ran up to the man.</p><p>“You did it, Betty!” He celebrated, she gave him a strained smile that fell quickly. “Why the face, kiddo?” Looking to the ground, she bit her lip, debating whether she should tell him. </p><p>“Something weird happened.” Saying that she felt herself return to that moment. Felt the power, the hatred, and, most of all, the enjoyment that came with exorcising the demon. It was a terrifying feeling. “I exorcised the demon w-with my mind, I think.” She looked at him, bringing a hand to her forehead and letting out a breath of desperation. “I-I just- he talked about my dad, said he abandoned me because I was too weak to be a hunter.” Letting her hand fall, she fought tears building up in her eyes. “And, I just lost it.” Meyers nodded, pulling her into a hug. Betty let herself fall into his arms, resting her head against her chest as her breathing became irregular.</p><p>“It’s okay.” He comforted her, rubbing her back. She let her eyes close in an attempt to steady herself. Lightly shaking her head, she strangled back a sob.</p><p>“It’s not.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Line Between Good and Evil Is Blurred</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam raised the crime scene tape blocking off the door to a Jefferson City apartment unit, allowing Dean to go in ahead of him. He followed, pulling his suit jacket flat and following his older brother toward the scene. </p><p>A young woman’s body was being zipped up, taken away by paramedics too quickly for Sam to have gotten a good look at her cause of death. It seems that all the action had taken place in the kitchen, blood-spattered all over the floor and counter. </p><p>“Agents.” A female detective greeted them, both nodded at her. Sam crouched down, examining the counter closely as Dean went to stand near the detective.</p><p>“Give us a run down, Ross.” His older brother requested, stuffing his hands in his pockets and watching Sam look around. Ross nodded, flipping through a notepad in her hands. </p><p>“Victim was Katherine Humble,” she began. “Fourth victim this month.” Sam squinted at a chip in the counter, following the blood trail down to the floor with his eyes. “Just like the others, she lived alone in her apartment.” Clearing her throat, the detective flipped her notepad closed and stuffed it into her back pocket. “Door was wide open, the landlord found her this morning. Whoever did this bashed her head into the counter repeatedly and gagged her.” Dean nodded, looking at the woman.</p><p>“Anything strange about the body?” He questioned, she shot him a glance from the side of her eye. </p><p>“Uh,” she placed a finger on her lip in contemplation. “Her ears were bleeding.” She snapped her finger when she said it. “The same as the others.” Sam finally raised from his crouched position, motioning for his brother to follow him. Dean followed him after giving a quick farewell to the detective, his younger brother led him back out of the apartment and into the isolated stairwell.</p><p>“Whatcha got, Sam?” Dean asked, he knew that whenever his brother made that face, eyes serious and lips pressed into a frown, that he had discovered what they were hunting. Sam took one last look around, leaning over the railing to be sure they were alone and turned to Dean.</p><p>“It’s a Banshee.” He stated matter of factly, Dean motioned for him to continue. “Dad and I hunted one back in ‘01.” Dean furrowed his brows at this, feeling slightly crossed that the two had hunted without him.</p><p>“Without me?” Sam gave him a bored look before rolling his eyes.</p><p>“You were off with Lisa, remember?” What Sam said jogged a memory, and Dean gave him a goofy smile and half-lidded eyes.</p><p>“Oh yeah,” he reminisced. “Best week of my life.” </p><p>“Gross.” Sam groaned, shaking off his discomfort. </p><p>“Grow up, Sam.”</p><p>“Anyway,” the younger brother continued, rolling his eyes at Dean. “Banshees release a high pitch scream that only its victims can hear.” He continued, snapping his fingers in front of his dazed older brother. “It’s such a terrible sound that it causes them to slam their heads against anything nearby to get it to stop.” Dean cringed at the thought.</p><p>“How do we kill it?” Sam let out a sigh, his eyes wandering in attempts to recall how he and his father had killed it. The sound of a door falling closed made both of them jump to a defensive position, looking to the stairwell door above them. A young woman stood there, brown hair and concerned green eyes. </p><p>“Um,” she began, clearing her throat and stepping down. “You were talking about something screaming?” Sam glanced at his brother, and Dean returned the look as they relaxed. </p><p>“Why do you wanna know?” Dean hadn’t meant to come off so mean, but she did just scare the absolute shit out of them. Sam elbowed his brother, eyebrows furrowing at his tone. The two proceeded to continuously jab at each other as the woman looked on.</p><p>“My name is Lacy,” she began, calling their attention back to her. “And I’ve seen it.” Sam blocked one last jab from Dean, grabbing onto his brother’s hand and lowering it in a truce. “Well, heard it really.” Moving her brown hair, she revealed blood seeping out of her left ear. The brothers looked at each other with wide eyes, Dean broke away first, looking at Lacy.</p><p>“How long ago?”</p><p>Lacy’s apartment was cozy, stuffed with an insane amount of ceramic figurines. Sam and Dean awkwardly sat on a small sofa, pushing each other to get more space for themselves. The brunette entered the living room, three cups of hot chocolate in her hands. Dean jumped at the opportunity and grabbed a cup from the woman’s hand, Sam glared at his impolite brother, grabbing the other cup and thanking Lacy.</p><p>“Lacy,” Sam began as the woman sat on an armchair across from them. “Did you know any of the other victims?” She tilted her head at him, giving him a confused look. “I mean, all of you lived in the same building, you must have crossed paths beforehand.” Lacy let a sigh out through her nose, setting her cup down onto the glass table between them.</p><p>“I knew the first victim,” she began, crossing her legs and hugging herself. “Riley Gomez.” She named, looking to Sam before letting her eyes fall to the hardwood floor. “We were really good friends, met in high school.” Taking a deep breath, she hesitated to continue but pushed forward. “A week after she died, I started to hear it. This screaming whenever I was out in the hallway.” Her green eyes were filled with terror at remembering the sound. “It would always stop when I got into my apartment and locked the door behind me.” Sam nodded.</p><p>“Last time you heard it was before Katherine died, right?” Lacy nodded, straightening up and loosening her grip on her arms.</p><p>“Yeah, I heard it and I ran into my apartment. But, it didn’t stop this time.” She answered, blinking away tears. “It kept going, but it didn’t sound nearby like it usually did.” Bringing a hand to her face, she pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Eventually, it stopped. And then the police came this morning.” Dean licked the hot chocolate off his lips.</p><p>“You think it’s coming for you?” Lacy looked to him, nodding.</p><p>“I know it’s coming for me.”</p><p>Sam pulled a golden dagger out of the Impala’s trunk, running a finger along the blade. Dean swiped it from his hand, looking at it and whistling. Sam reached to take it back from his brother but Dean dodged his reach and backed away from the car.</p><p>“I get to kill it!” He shouted, stepping onto the snowy sidewalk. “You already killed one with dad, now it’s my turn.” Sam shook his head at Dean’s childishness, shutting the trunk and shoving his hands into her coat pockets.</p><p>“Fine.” He reluctantly agreed, rolling his eyes at his brother’s back.</p><p>“Keep rolling your eyes like that and they’re gonna get stuck, Sammy.” Dean shot back at him, Sam scoffed wondering how he had seen his expression when all of his attention was drawn to the golden weapon. “Let’s kill this thing!” He cheered, practicing a stab with the weapon as he took off back to the apartment complex’s entrance. Sam shook his head, following his older brother.</p><p>Stepping into the entryway, Dean stuffed the blade into his coat and covered it up. The two walked past the landlord’s office, giving him a polite greeting that he returned. Walking out of his line of sight, Dean shot Sam a look.</p><p>“Landlord’s awfully friendly.” He said, implying nothing good as he pulled the blade out of his coat. Sam made a face, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Dean had a point. Something had been odd about the landlord, his demeanor when questioned by detective Ross, almost excited, and the way his eyes lingered on them as they walked by. Shaking the feeling off, they arrived at Lacy’s apartment and Sam knocked. The woman opened the door and welcomed them back.</p><p>“Okay, we have something that will kill it.” Sam began as Lacy closed the door behind them, he motioned the blade in Dean’s hand. “We’ll stay here tonight, if it shows up, we’ll protect you.” Lacy nodded, setting a hand on Sam’s arm, gently touching him and giving him a sweet smile.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Sam could feel his older brother’s stare as he stared out of the frosted apartment’s window. He had ignored it for as long as he could, but it was starting to get on his nerves. Quickly turning to meet his brother’s eyes, Dean instantly gave him an innocent smile. Sam narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning onto the window behind him. He slightly regretted his attempt to look cool as the cold of the window against his back made him jump.</p><p>“What, Dean?” He questioned, Dean gave him a chuckle, juggling the golden blade in his hand. His head motioned to Lacy’s closed bedroom door.</p><p>“Lacy totally digs you.” Sam closed his eyes, cringing at what his brother was insinuating. “Look, Sam.” He began, setting the blade down on a table beside a particularly cute ceramic of a blonde girl. “I know you’re still hung up on Jess-”</p><p>“Dean, don’t.” It had only been five months since her death, and Dean had been constantly bugging him about moving on, hooking up with any random girl they met that showed even the slightest bit of interest in him. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Dean let out a sigh as Sam turned back to the window.</p><p>“Sam, Jess wouldn’t want you to be like this.” The younger brother bit his tongue, struggling to restrain himself. “All mopey and ‘love is dead’. She’d want you to-”</p><p>“How do you know, Dean.” Sam shot back, his tone made Dean shut his mouth quickly. “How do you know what she would have wanted.” He finally turned to face his older brother, anger in his hazel irises. Giving a bitter laugh, he ran a hand through his brown hair. “Because last time I checked, you knew her for all of five minutes. Maybe less.” Dean didn’t waver despite Sam’s heated stare. “So, just how do you know.” They stared at each other for what seemed like forever, Dean swallowed his pride and looked away first. Sam waited for him to say something, preferably an apology, but it never came. Clicking his tongue, Sam turned back to stare out of the window.</p><p>Dean woke up to the sound of Lacy screaming, Sam was already on his way to the closed door, throwing himself into it and breaking it open. In his half-awake state, Dean shot up from his seat, grabbing the golden dagger and taking off behind his younger brother.</p><p>Lacy sat huddled in the corner of her room, screaming and holding onto her bleeding ears. Sam reached her side, hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“Where is it!?” Dean called out, placing his other hand on the hilt of the weapon and waiting for her to respond. She continued to scream, Sam looked at his brother in desperation. His hazel eyes then flickered to look behind Dean, widening as his hand shot up to point.</p><p>“Dean!” Turning, Dean felt himself freeze, coming face to face with the banshee. She was floating just above him, towering over him. Her face was degraded, rotting. Her dark red hair floated around her face almost as if she were suspended, her dirty white dress did the same. And her face was frozen in a silent scream that Dean couldn’t hear. “Dean! Stab it now!” </p><p>Snapping out of his frozen state, Dean jabbed at the terrifying figure. He expected a bright light, some crazy chain of events that gave them their confirmed victory. But the blade didn’t hit anything solid, going through her body. Dean’s eyes flickered about, confused as to why nothing had happened. Looking back up, cold hands grabbed onto his face and the banshee stared into his eyes.</p><p>“Dean!” </p><p>
  <em> He was looking through the eyes of a woman, dark red hair and brown eyes, Dean noted seeing her reflection in a mirror hung on a wall she passed by. She walked down the corridors of the Jackson city apartment complex. It was late, evident by the dark sky that peered through the window. Stopping at a door, she rustled through her bag for her keys, finding them buried at the bottom. Pulling them out, her head snapped to the stairwell door, swearing that she heard the squeak of someone’s shoe. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Blinking away the feeling of being watched, she placed her key into the door’s knob. The door opened and, just as the woman was about to walk through, a figure pushed her in and slammed the door behind them. A gag was placed on her mouth, preventing her from screaming out for help. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hands grabbed onto her head, slamming her into the nearby wall. She begged and cried, praying someone would help her. But no one came. </em>
</p><p>“Dean,” green eyes fluttered open. Dean found himself lying on the uncomfortable floor of Lacy’s bedroom, his brother and the brunette leaning over him. Sam let out a relieved sigh. “God, I thought you died or something.” Dean groaned, sitting up and leaning on the palms of his hands. Lacy nodded along with Sam’s sentiment, blood staining her pajama top and leaving a dried trail from her ear to her collarbone. Dean, rubbed his eyes, letting out a huff of air.</p><p>“Jesus, Sam.” He began. Sam stood, reaching a hand down for his older brother to take. “I thought you said gold could kill these things.” He shot Sam a glare, taking his hand and allowing his brother to pull him upward. Sam gave him a look, between snarky and equally as confused.</p><p>“It does.” Sam shot back, looking off toward the golden blade that laid where Dean had dropped it. “I don’t understand.” Lacy looked at him, worry evident in her eyes. Dean swooped down and grabbed the blade, his mind flashed back to what the banshee had shown him. Turning to Lacy, he rubbed his lips together.</p><p>“Riley Gomez,” her green eyes snapped to him at the mention of the name. “Did she have red hair and brown eyes?” The brunette nodded slowly, blinking at his accurate description. Letting out a huff of air through his nose, he looked to Sam. “The banshee showed me something.” Instantly, Sam grabbed onto his brother’s shoulder and led him out of Lacy’s bedroom. The brunette watched them walk out slightly confused, but stayed in her spot regardless.</p><p>“What did it show you?” Sam asked. Dean opened his mouth, hesitating to say what he saw. Closing his mouth, he cleared his throat.</p><p>“She,” he began, correcting his brother. “She showed me Riley’s death, from Riley’s point of view,” Sam’s mouth slightly fell open and he searched Dean’s eyes for some sort of instance of what he would say next. “And it wasn’t supernatural.” The older brother took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say. “She was murdered by a human being.”</p><p>Sam sat in the Impala, searching through his father’s journal. Their new theory was that Riley’s violent death made her into a banshee, senselessly killing other women in some sort of messed up retaliation for her own death. It had been difficult to break to Lacy, seeing as she had been close to Riley and was now her target. </p><p>The door of the Impala opened, letting in cold air that caught Sam off guard. Looking up from the journal, he watched Dean climb into the car.</p><p>“Heads up.” His brother said, throwing a paper bag at him. Sam caught it, opening it to find a burger. He scoffed, looking to Dean with a grossed-out look.</p><p>“Dean,” his brother hummed in response, taking a bite out of his greasy burger. “Is that seriously going to be your breakfast?” Dean turned to him, chewing his food and swallowing.</p><p>“I don’t know, Sam,” he began, leaning back in his seat. “Is that seriously your number one concern right now?” Sam held his glare at his brother, looking away with a roll of his eyes as Dean went in for another bite. “Find anything about ghost banshees?” Sam threw the paper bag down onto the Impala’s seating, seeing Dean quickly grab it and place it on his lap for later. </p><p>“Uh, just that we have to burn her remains, but-”</p><p>“But Lacy said that Riley was cremated after the investigation was over.” Sam nodded at his brother’s interruption, shutting his father’s journal and sighing. “Have you called Bobby, yet?” Dean asked, taking another bite of his burger and wiping the grease off the corner of his mouth. Sam rubbed his hands on his face, leaning back in his seat.</p><p>“Of course I did.” Dean scowled at his sharp reply, eating the last of his burger and pulling out the one that had been intended for Sam. “He said the same thing. To burn the remains, and when I told him there weren’t any, he said there was nothing we could do.” Sam crossed his arm, and Dean noted that he was pouting. Unwrapping his second burger, Dean looked out the window in thought. Sam could see his brother’s eyebrows quirk as if an idea had come to him. </p><p>“You know who might have an answer,” he began, motioning a finger to draw Sam’s attention. “Uh, brunette, brown eyes,” he snapped his fingers attempting to remember as his younger brother looked at him with confusion. “She had healing powers, oh, and that really awesome armory in her car.” Sam’s eyes lit up with recognition at who he was describing.</p><p>“Betty.” Dean nodded, an excited look in his eyes when Sam reminded him of the woman’s name.</p><p>“Yeah, Betty!” He cheered gleefully. “She had that ginormous lore book, she probably has some answers.” Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket, clicking on the saved number. He hesitated, and Dean noticed. “What’re you waiting for?” The younger brother glanced at Dean, taking his thumb away from the call button.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he started, placing his phone on the dashboard. “It’s been, what? Two months since we met her.” Dean blinked at him, seemingly not seeing the point. Sam shook his head with a sigh. “Wouldn’t it be weird to contact her? I mean, she probably doesn’t even remember us.” Dean stared at his brother, a bored look on his face.</p><p>“Then I’ll call her.” He announced, reaching over and grabbing the phone. Sam instantly jumped for the phone, grabbing onto Dean’s hand and forcing it off.</p><p>“No, I’ll call her.” Dean shot his brother a smug look, taking another bite out of his burger. Glaring at him, Sam quickly pressed the call button and raised the phone to his ear. Three rings and the sound of her answering.</p><p>“Rivera.” Her tone was professional with a hint of underlying stress, Sam could hear the tune of an R&amp;B song playing quietly in the background. He pulled it away from his ear, setting it on speaker mode, allowing Dean to hear her as well.</p><p>“Hey, Betty.” Sam greeted, placing the phone on the dashboard. Dean rolled his eyes at the mundane greeting. “It’s Sam,” Dean smacked his arm, motioning to himself. “And Dean. We thought that, maybe, you could help us with our current case.” He could hear the radio-quiet down to silence on her end.</p><p>“Shoot, I’m all ears.” Sam felt lighter at the bright and hopeful tone she said it with. Clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat and glanced at Dean. His older brother wasn’t paying attention, too enthralled in his second burger to be judging Sam.</p><p>“We’re dealing with a banshee,” he began, shifting the phone closer to the center of the dashboard. “A ghost banshee, not a demonic one. But we’re having trouble getting rid of it.” Dean finished his burger, dusting his hands off he leaned toward the phone.</p><p>“Yeah, there aren’t any bones to burn.” Sam pushed his brother back, away from the mic, gesturing that she could hear him fine from the distance he originally was. Dean shot him a glare, looking back at the phone. “Anyway, we have no idea how to get rid of her. Any advice, Bets?” Sam could hear her huff at the nickname.</p><p>“Well, Dee,” she began, stretching out the nickname making Dean scrunch his face in response. “Is it a good banshee or a bad banshee?” Both brothers felt their eyes widened at her words, Dean was the first to say something, sputtering out laughter.</p><p>“A ‘good’ banshee?!” He shouted in between laughter. “Bets, I don’t know about you, but there are no things as ‘good’ monsters.” His laughter died down amid silence from the other two people, and from Sam motioning for him to stop. Both looked back to the phone when they heard her sigh.</p><p>“The world isn’t all black and white, Dean.” She said. “Sometimes bad things can be good and,” Sam noticed that she cut herself off for a bit. “And good things can be bad.” There was a tense silence, Dean took the liberty of breaking it and speaking up first.</p><p>“Okay,” he began, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Let’s say there are such things as ‘good’ banshees.” He glanced at Sam, who seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. “What exactly is their purpose?” Dean could hear her clear her throat.</p><p>“Well, some banshees are tortured souls who meet a violent and untimely death,” Dean nodded, waiting for her to get to the point. “So, some of them become messengers of warning. To prevent what happened to them from happening to others.” The older Winchester felt his breath get stuck in his throat, a feeling of realization set in. </p><p>“I guess it makes sense,” he begrudgingly admitted. Sam finally broke out of his thinking bubble, a little shocked that his brother admitted defeat. “Riley Gomez was murdered, violently.” Dean felt himself return to what the banshee had shown him, the feeling of helplessness washing over him. “Her killer’s still out there, murdering women,” looking at Sam, both felt a sinking feeling in their stomachs. “And she’s trying to warn them.”</p><p>“Checks out,” Betty responded, the sound of her car screeching to a halt made the brothers snap back to the phone. “Crap.” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Listen, I’ve gotta go, guys,” she began, Dean could hear her shift gears. “I’ve got a pissed-off shifter on my tail. Uh, let me know how it all turns out.” With that she hung up, leaving the two dumbfounded. Sam picked up the phone, closing it. </p><p>“Well, she’s certainly an interesting person.” Dean chuckled, Sam glanced at his brother before sighing. Dean threw him a look of concern. “What is it, Sam?” Sam fumbled with the phone in his hand, biting the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“Just,” he began, setting his hands down into his lap. “She sounded,” he motioned with a hand, trying to find the word. “Off.” Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother, starting the Impala.</p><p>“She sounded fine to me,” he argued, shifting into drive and pulling out onto the road. “Maybe a little stressed from the shifter chasing her.” Sam shook his head.</p><p>“No. I mean, yeah, that’s probably the main reason, but,” Dean glanced at him, returning his gaze to the road filled with stop-and-go traffic. “I don’t know.” The older brother nodded.</p><p>“We barely know her,” he began, motioning with his hand. “Maybe that’s just how she always sounds?” Sam rested his elbow on the car’s window, leaning his jaw onto his closed fist and staring out of the window. </p><p>“Maybe.” </p><p>Stepping through the stairwell door, Dean was quick to raise an arm to stop Sam from walking any further. Sam shot his brother a confused look, to which Dean pointed at the door. Seeing Lacy’s apartment door slightly open, he dropped his confused look and reached for the gun in his waistband. Doing the same, Dean swiftly moved to lean against the right side of the door, motioning for Sam to head in first. </p><p>The lock hadn’t been broken in, Sam noted, it seemed that whoever came in had a key. Pushing the door softly, Sam cringed at the creaking noise it made and opted to swiftly open it before it could garner attention. He pointed his gun around, his eyes checking the opened space. Dean walked up next to him, jerking his head in the direction of Lacy’s bedroom, soft sobbing coming from that direction.</p><p>Dean led the way this time, Sam lagging. Peering into the small crack in the door, Dean could see Lacy, wrists tied to her bed, crying and gagged. A figure walked by the crack, causing Dean to jump back a bit and a sinking feeling to come to his chest. Lacy was tugging on her restraints, attempting to cover her bleeding ears from the screaming only she could hear. Sam hovered over Dean, looking in. With a glance, the two nodded at each other and moved to fling the door open.</p><p>“Put your hands up,” Dean said as calmly as possible. The figure froze, his back to the brothers. Taking a few steps to the side, Dean walked around him, in an attempt to see his identity. He was slightly shocked to find it to be the landlord, he gestured at Sam to untie Lacy. Sam placed his gun back in his waistband, quickly arriving at Lacy’s side and untying her. “That’s why there were no signs of a break-in,” Dean began, nearing the landlord. “Because you have keys to every apartment.” He could feel himself get angry. “That’s why you were always the one to find the bodies, inserting yourself into the investigation,” he continued, his tone was heated and a wet feeling on his cheek fueled his anger. “Because you were the one who murdered them.”</p><p>“Dean,” Sam called, Dean looked to his brother, slightly mad that he was calling his attention away from the object of his anger. “Your eye.” His younger brother motioned at Dean’s cheek, a look of horror on his face. Dean gave him a confused look, bringing a hand up to his cheek and touching the source of wetness on his cheek. Looking at his hand, his lips parted in silent shock.</p><p>A black goo was seeping out of his eye and dripping down his cheek, a classic sign of ghost possession. He almost dropped his gun, momentarily pulling it away from the landlord.</p><p>“Dean!” Sam yelled, seeing the landlord take advantage of his brother’s distracted state and jumping at him with a knife. Quickly taking his gun back out, he pulled Lacy into his arms and shot at the man. Dean looked up just in time to see the bullet go through the landlord’s arm, making him drop the knife and grab onto his bleeding arm. </p><p>Turning back to the bleeding and defenseless man, Dean felt hatred bubble in his stomach. But it wasn’t Riley’s hatred toward her murderer, it was hatred toward someone that tried to hurt her friend, and who had killed many women after her. It was also the anger of failure to save any of the people after her. Dean felt that burning rage, and he wanted nothing more than to kill the man in front of him. </p><p>“Dean?” He ignored Sam’s call to him, lifting the gun and aiming at the landlord’s head. The landlord’s eyes widened as he attempted to escape Dean’s hateful gaze. </p><p>“Please!” He begged, raising his unharmed arm in surrender as Dean neared. The begging didn’t help, it just brought back Riley’s memory of her death. He ignored pleas to be spared and cries for help.</p><p>“Don’t!” Sam’s voice momentarily broke him out of his state, and instead, he hit the landlord with his handgun effectively knowing the man out. Dean stumbled out of Lacy’s bedroom, finding himself hit the table where the ceramic blonde girl sat, and she fell. Shattering onto the ground as Dean heard screaming in his ears. He crumbled to the ground, kneeling as he held his head, the black goo now spilling out of both of his eyes. </p><p>“Riley,” Lacy could see her. Riley leaned over Dean, screaming at him. The red-headed banshee turned to look at her, screaming subsiding and eyes softening as Dean fell back onto the floor. Lacy smiled at her, waving away the blood that seeped from her ears. “It’s over,” she began, nearing the ghostly figure of her dear friend. A hand on her shoulder, Sam, attempted to stop her, but she shook him off. “You stopped him.” Tears began to fill her eyes as she reached her hands out to her friend. “You can rest now.” Haunting brown eyes searched Lacy’s face before settling on her hands, reaching out to place her own on top of them. Where their hands met, a white light began, traveling up Riley’s body and reverting her to the way she looked when she was alive. </p><p>“Goodbye, Lace.” Riley offered a small smile on her lips and a tearful look in her eyes. Lacy chuckled sadly, nodding at her friend.</p><p>“Goodbye, Riley.” She returned. Riley nodded, closing her eyes and letting out a peaceful sigh. Starting with the back of her figure, she began to turn into a white mist, floating upward. Lacy looked at her now empty hands, rubbing her palms with her thumbs and acknowledging the empty feeling of them.</p><p>Sam couldn’t keep his look of amazement hidden, it was the first time he had seen a ghost leave so peacefully. Usually, it was all screaming and burning and fighting. He didn’t know that leaving peacefully was an option. He was snapped out of his shocked state by a groaning Dean, he quickly ran to his brother’s side,</p><p>“You okay, Dean?” He asked. Dean answered with a simple thumbs-up, Sam shook his head and grabbed his older brother’s. Pulling him up to his feet, the two turned to Lacy, who continued to stare at her empty palms. Dean sheepishly walked up to her, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and looking at the broken ceramic.</p><p>“Sorry about your things.” Lacy looked up to him and shot him a smile, lowering her palms and laughing slightly.</p><p>“Sorry that my friend possessed you.” Sam chuckled, and Dean gave her a strained smile. “Thank you.” She whispered both nodded in acceptance of her gratitude. A groan from Lacy’s bedroom made all three look in its direction. </p><p>“We should call the actual police.”</p><p>Sam sat in the Impala, his thumb hovering over the call button and his eyes staring at the name. Dean glanced at him, rolling his eyes at his hesitation and opening the door. Reaching a handout, he quickly pressed the dial button.</p><p>“Hey!” Sam yelled, shooting a look at his brother. Dean quickly jumped out of the car, closing the door behind him and pretending not to hear Sam. Three rings and she answered. Sam quickly pressed the phone to his ear.</p><p>“Rivera.” Her voice was out of breath, a little on edge Sam noted. He also noted the sound of a siren in the background.</p><p>“Oh, hi, Betty.” He greeted. “Uh, are you alright? Sound a little on edge.” The sound of the sirens died down a bit, and Betty sighed.</p><p>“Well, um, I’m fine but I think I’m legally dead now.” She said it was a bit of a chuckle that made Sam smile. “Never in my life did I think I would have to fight myself in a burning house. It was surreal.” Her tone was gleeful, vastly different from their call earlier. “So, how did the banshee hunt go?” Sam blinked, remembering the reason for calling her.</p><p>“Uh, it went well.” He told her, running a hand through his hair that was beginning to reach the middle of his ears. “You were right, it was a good banshee. Possessed Dean and everything trying to kill her murderer.” She hummed in acknowledgment, Sam noted that the hum had an underlying tenseness. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” Silence, and then a heavy sigh.</p><p>“Sam,” she began, voice wavering slightly. “Other than your visions. Have you developed any new powers?” He blinked at her question, confused.</p><p>“No.” He answered as softly as he could. “Have you?” Silence once more. Licking his lips, Sam glanced toward the gas station’s shop, seeing Dean continue to pursue its selection of snacks for the road. “Betty,” he began softly. “You can tell me.” He could hear her clear her throat.</p><p>“I have,” she mumbled it slightly, almost as if she didn’t want to admit it. “I, uh, I exorcised a demon with my mind.” She admitted with a nervous chuckle at the end, Sam nodded in acknowledgment and breathed in deeply.</p><p>“That’s, um, that’s-”</p><p>“Terrifying.” She interrupted him, her voice telling him that she was on the verge of tears. “I know I told you that I thought my powers were good and from God,” she began. “But, something felt wrong.” Sam could hear her breathing become shallow and uneven. “I felt wrong.” It was barely above a whisper, Sam swallowed not entirely sure what to say.</p><p>“My powers scare me sometimes,” he began, hearing her sniffle. “Seeing people die in my dreams when I’m awake. It’s not pleasant, and I hate it.” He ran his tongue along the bottom of his upper teeth, biting down on it. “But they help me save people. No matter how much I hate it and how scared I am of it, I need it to help people.” His eyes flickered up to the shop, seeing Dean checking out. “Betty, you and I are more than our powers.” He heard her sniffle once more. “Don’t let it define you.” Her breathing was steadier now, and his heartfelt calmer. </p><p>“Thank you, Sam.” He smiled to himself.</p><p>“If you ever need help, or just was to talk,” he began a little clumsily. “You can always call.” She let out a small laugh. </p><p>“I’ll take you up on that offer.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Kids Shouldn't Mess With Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this is going up so late! Had busy week and could barely find time to write. Will edit later so please ignore any mistakes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hmm.” Brown eyes stared down at the ripped up and mangled human remains on the morgue table in front of her. The word ‘gross’ sat on the tip of her tongue, but she refrained from saying it. These remains were once human, before being ripped apart by whatever monster was involved. Plus, you never know when a ghost is listening in.</p><p>“Gnarly, isn’t it?” Betty’s attention was called away from the body, glancing up to meet the brown eyes of the morgue worker, Hayley. “Rest of the morgue workers couldn’t handle it,” she continued, holding a few files close to her chest. “They had to take the day off.” </p><p>“So, you can handle it?” Hayley nodded, short black hair bouncing. Her hand stretched out to offer the files to Betty.</p><p>“I used to work in a New York morgue,” she chuckled as the brunette grabbed the files. “So, trust me. I’ve seen much worse.” Betty slowly nodded, putting the files under her arm and pressing them close to her torso.</p><p>“Find anything odd on this body or the past ones?” She asked, hoping to change the subject and stop the chatty worker from relaying any potentially traumatizing morgue stories. Hayley quickly nodded, using her gloved right hand to rotate a section of the body. The neck, at least, Betty thought it was the person's neck. </p><p>“All the bodies have these same bites,” she began, pointing to a ring of teeth marks that sunk into the dead flesh. “Whatever made these seemed to suck the blood out, evident by the lack of blood that was found in the body.” Betty breathed in deeply, attempting to not let the sight unnerve her. </p><p>“Well,” she started, clearing her throat and looking at the morgue worker with a bright smile. “Thank you for your help.” Hayley let the body piece go, returning the bright smile and leaning forward.</p><p>“No problem,” she said, Betty’s smile slightly twitched at the strange tone she said it in. “If you’re gonna be in town for a while we should get dinner together sometime.” Hayley batted her eyelashes, tilting her head slightly to the side, waiting for the taller woman’s reply. Betty blinked at her, her friendly smile unwavering.</p><p>“As much as I would like to, it’s very important I solve this case and move on to my next one.” Hayley’s smile faltered at the brunette’s professional response. “Once again, thank you.” With one final expression of gratitude, Betty gave her a nod and walked out of the morgue. She sent a nod to the Newport sheriff, taking her to leave from the building and entering the cold February air. With a slight shiver, she walked quickly to her car and entered it. </p><p>Opening the files, she looked through the paperwork. Over the past few weeks, the bodies of missing teens had been found by the Sakonnet River, ripped to pieces, and deprived of any blood. Now, the river wasn’t the crime scene, just the body dump, but local authorities were stumped as to where the actual murders took place. Betty had arrived in town just as the most recent teen, Melissa Kilter, had gone missing. Visiting the family and questioning them would be the brunette’s next step, she nodded to herself as she placed the closed file onto the passenger seat beside her. </p><p>Pulling out her phone, Betty quickly found her way to Sam’s number and clicked the dial button. She pressed the phone to her ear, starting her car as it began to ring and pulling out onto the road just as Sam answered.</p><p>“Hey, Betty.” Sam greeted, Betty noted the classic rock in the background and the faint sound of Dean singing along. She slightly smiled, feeling a sense of peace at hearing both of their voices. </p><p>“Hey, Sam.” She returned, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her. “How’s the case in Roswell going?” He replied with a huff, it reminded her of a bored child.</p><p>“Uh, we’re kind of at a stalemate over here.” He grumbled the music in the background faded away slightly. “Dean seems to think we’re dealing with aliens, which is-hey!” Her eyes slightly widened at his sudden exclamation but returned to normal when hearing the click of Dean’s tongue.</p><p>“Bets,” she let out a huff at the nickname. “You gotta side with me on this one.” He told her, well, more like ordered her. “You believe in aliens, right? I mean, you believe in God-”</p><p>“Not the same thing.” She could hear Sam chime in.</p><p>“Shut up,” Dean grumbled at his younger brother. “Come on.” She let out a laugh, shaking her head at the desperation in his voice. </p><p>“Yes, Dee,” she began. “I believe in aliens.” </p><p>“See,” Dean said. “She’s a believer.” He whispered the second part, and Betty could hear the phone get snatched out of his hand. </p><p>“Do you really?” Sam’s voice asked her, she let out a chuckle.</p><p>“No, but let him have this one.” She said, stopping at a red light. Sam gave her a small laugh in return.</p><p>“Anyway,” he began, clearing his throat. “How’s your case? With all the dead kidnapped teens.” The brunette let out a sigh, chewing on her bottom lip. </p><p>“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s a vampire.” She hunched her shoulders up. “Yay, my first vampire case.” Her voice was flat, void of any celebration that the sentence alluded to which made Sam laugh slightly. “Might even be a nest judging by how many teens have gone missing.” She could hear Sam gasp softly just as the light turned green.</p><p>“A nest?” He questioned. “Should we head over to help?” Betty blinked, thrown off by his offer.</p><p>“Oh,” she started, attempting to get back her train of thought. “You don’t have to do that, it’s, like, a two days drive. I can handle it.” Sam let out a small noise of shock.</p><p>“No, Betty,” he sputtered, voice laced with desperation and frustration. “We can get there quickly, right, Dean?” </p><p>“I mean, yeah, but it would still be a day and a half before we get there.” She could hear Dean say followed by a scoff from Sam. </p><p>“Sam,” she started softly, parking her car in front of the Kilter household just behind a small black Ford. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when it’s over so you’ll know I’m not dead.” There was a momentary silence, spanning for a few seconds before being interrupted by Sam’s defeated sigh. </p><p>“I want updates,” he demanded. “When you find out where the nest is, tell us.” She could hear him breathe in deeply. “So if you go missing we have a starting point.” Betty refrained from rolling her eyes at him but restored to just shaking her head.</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“Promise me.” She furrowed her brows. Did Sam think of her as a child who couldn’t handle herself? Sure, she had only been hunting for seven months. And sure, he had had to have saved her life on their first case together. But she was a capable hunter, raised by Joshua freaking Rivera. In theory, she’s the best of the best. Despite how offended she felt, she nodded, rubbing her forehead and answering begrudgingly.</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>Betty sighed, her hand stretching out to the door before her. She hesitated slightly before knocking. There was a sound of crashing and fumbling behind the door. It opened, revealing an older, short blond man with teary grey eyes.</p><p>“Pastor Kilter?” She asked, he nodded in response, pushing small circular glasses back up his nose ridge. “I’m agent Benson, with the FBI. I’m looking into your daughter's disappearance.” His eyes slightly widened.</p><p>“Oh, uh, please do come in!” He sputtered, motioning for her to step inside. Stepping in, Betty took in her surroundings. It was a seemingly warm environment, decorated with crosses and pictures of Jesus. “Forgive me for the mess, the living room is right in here.” The brunette followed him, her eyes caught sight of a door on the house’s second floor decorated with sparkly letters that spelled out ‘Melissa’. </p><p>Stepping into the living room, Betty spotted another man. He was sitting in a blue armchair, eyes glued to a laptop screen. She noted that he looked exactly like pastor Kilter, with the same scruffy blond hair and face structure. But, his eyes were blue. The bluest she had ever seen.</p><p>“Oh, this is my son.” The pastor began, calling his son’s attention away from the screen. “Liam, this is agent Benson. She’s looking into Melissa’s disappearance.” The younger man looked from his father to Betty, giving an acknowledging nod before grabbing his laptop and pushing past them to head out of the room. “Sorry about him,” pastor Kilter began, motioning for Betty to take a seat on a long brown couch. “He just got home from college, had to take a semester off.” The brunette shook her head, putting up a hand to stop his apology.</p><p>“No need to apologize, pastor.” She told him with a smile. “It’s reasonable to be closed off when something tragic has happened.” He nodded, giving her a pitiful smile that made her heartache. “What can you tell me about Melissa?” She questioned, pulling out her trusty notepad and pen.</p><p>“Uh, she was an obedient kid,” he began, wiping away a tear. “I was helping her train to become a nun.” Betty was certain that she had heard a record scratch, and she froze in her spot. Blinking at him, her brain attempting to process a seventeen-year-old going through novitiate.</p><p>“She wanted to be a nun?” The pastor chuckled, shaking his head as more tears streamed from his eyes. </p><p>“Not at all,” his tone was sad and somber. “But it was a family tradition.” Betty’s brows furrowed. “For generations, the children of the Kilter family have gone into religious orders. The men become pastors and the women become nuns.” He sighed deeply. “It’s the family legacy.” The brunette felt her breath hitch in her throat, the words being familiar to her. </p><p>
  <em> “Betty,” tearful brown eyes looked from the pistol in her hands to her father’s sea green ones. “You have to learn.” His voice was soft yet stern as he kneeled beside her, his big hands grabbing her small ones and setting them in the proper placement. The gun was heavy in her small trembling hands, and she didn’t like the loud noise it would make when she pulled the trigger. “It’s the family legacy.” </em>
</p><p>“Agent Benson?” Snapping out of her daze, she met the pastor’s grey eyes and swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. Clearing her throat, her eyes went back to the notepad in her hands.</p><p>“Anything else you could tell me?” Her eyes glanced to where they had entered the living room and where Liam had left. “Maybe about your family history.” Pastor Kilter rapidly blinked, standing and walking to a fireplace littered with picture frames. Gently, he picked one of a blonde and blue-eyed woman. </p><p>“A few years ago, we lost my wife Veronica.” He began, settling back into his seat and leaning forward to show Betty the picture. “It hit the kids hard.” He set the picture down on the coffee table between them, a feeling of sadness washed over the room, one that was familiar to the brunette. “Liam took off for college, trying to escape this town, his training.” The pastor continued, sighing deeply through his nose. “Without him around, I focused all my energy on training Melissa.” Letting out a tired laugh, he took his small round glasses off and rubbed his forehead in a stressful manner. “I regret being so hard on her. But, after losing Ronnie I wasn’t in a right state of mind.” Betty nodded along with his words.</p><p>“Loss does crazy things to people.” She stated, flipping her notepad closed and scratching the side of her nose. Pastor Kilter met her gaze, wordlessly asking to hear her story. “I lost my mother at a young age,” she began, giving the man a sad smile. “My dad fell into his work, wanted me to be just like him, follow in his footsteps.”</p><p>“Your father is also an FBI agent?” Her eyes snapped back to him, and with a nod, she adopted the narrative, fully aware that she couldn’t tell this man the truth. </p><p>“Yeah.” She nodded, looking back down to her hands that fumbled with the pen and pad. “He started to train me in his way, he meant well, but it drove a wedge between us.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she placed the pad onto her lap and looked back up to the man. “It took me a while before I could understand him,” she laughed slightly, shaking her head at the statement. “If I even actually understand him.” He smiled sadly, looking at the picture frame.</p><p>“I hope Melissa and I can also come to an understanding,” he paused, licking his lips. “If you find her.” Betty wanted to promise him, promise him that she would find his daughter alive so that he wouldn’t have to suffer through another loss. But, she’s learned to refrain from promises she doesn’t know she’ll be able to keep. Taking a deep breath, her eyes flickered toward a few stairs peeking through the doorway they came in from. </p><p>“Pastor Kilter,” his eyes left the picture, looking at her. “Can I take a look at Melissa’s room?”</p><p>The pink sparkly letters that spelled the teenage girl’s name stared back at the woman. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she took a deep breath before pushing it open. </p><p>Melissa’s room was to be expected, modern and clearly inhabited by a teenager. It had unsettled her, walking into the room of a missing teen, and it made her feel a little sick to rummage around and invade her privacy. Tensing her jaw, she shook the feeling off and began her search for clues. First, she arrived at Melissa’s bed, squatting down and putting her hand under it to feel around.</p><p>“What’re you doing?” She jumped a bit, her head slightly turning to the doorway. Liam stood there, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow at her in an annoyed fashion. Betty blinked at him, feeling around a little bit more before rising to her feet.</p><p>“Looking for any clues that could lead us to Melissa’s whereabouts.” Turning away from him, she went to Melissa’s drawers, opening and closing them while occasionally sticking her hand into the opened spaces.</p><p>“I already searched every inch of her room,” Liam began, his blue eyes following the brunette as she moved to his sister’s bookshelf. “And I didn’t find anything.” Betty reached up to a book on the highest shelf, the only one not covered in a blanket of dust. </p><p>“That’s because you’ve never been a teenage girl.” She stated, opening the book and flipping through its pages. Settling on a certain page, a scrap of paper with an address written on it fell to the ground. Picking it up, she closed the book and turned a scrap of paper to the man. “You recognize this address?” Liam took a scrap of paper, his eyes squinting at it and his eyebrows furrowing.</p><p>“This is the abandoned factory’s address,” his brows softened, eyes flickering to the brunette as he took the paper. “Melissa and I used to go there, before our mom died, to avoid training.” A wave of panic presented itself in his blue irises. “Do you think that’s where she was taken from?” Betty opened her mouth, closing it and looking down to the floor.</p><p>“Possibly,” she began, meeting his eyes once more. “I’ll go there tonight and check it out.” She grabbed onto the closer end of the paper, waiting a bit for Liam to let go of it. He held onto it for a while before giving it up to the woman. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Get some sleep, Liam.” </p><p>Betty was leaving the city limits, the dark winter sky looming over her. Her phone sat open on her dashboard, a call in progress.</p><p>“You’re really going to check it out this late?” Sam questioned, she furrowed her brows at the tone he said it in.</p><p>“I’m just gonna scope it out,” she began, her fingers extending to emphasize her words to no one in particular. “Ya know, see if it’s possibly a vampire nest.” A sigh sounded and she could tell that Sam was rubbing his forehead.</p><p>“A bit dangerous, don’t you think?” Dean’s voice chimed in, she rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Guys, I’m only going to take a look,” she argued, her voice gaining a bit of an edge. “I’m not gonna go in guns blazing.” She huffed, her shoulders tensing. “ Just checking out the layout and then I’m heading back to my motel room to-” Cutting herself off, she stopped her car and blinked at a small black Ford pulling into the dirt road that led to the abandoned factory just half a mile ahead of her.</p><p>“Betty, you okay?” Sighing, she brought a hand up and rubbed her eyes. Rubbing her hand down to her chin, she shook her head.</p><p>“Of course,” she mumbled to herself, placing her hand back onto her steering wheel and beginning to drive once more. “I’m fine, Sam.” She answered, turning into the dirt road and dimming her headlights. “Just got a bit of a situation.”</p><p>“Situation?” Dean questioned.</p><p>“The girl’s brother seems to have inserted himself into the investigation.” Her speed lessened, arriving at the factory’s entrance and her headlights illuminating the side of the car. She could see Liam’s head turn in her direction, eyes slightly wide and obviously caught off guard. Parking her car, she grabbed her phone and shut the car off. “Call you later.” Flipping her phone closed, she stepped out of her car just as Liam jumped out of his.</p><p>“A-agent Benson!” Liam stuttered, closing his car door and leaning back in an attempt to seem calm and collected. Betty neared him an obviously angry expression on her face that caused him to shrink into himself.</p><p>“What in holy hell are you doing here?” She questioned, tone laced with restrained anger, and, surprisingly, concern. He stared at her like a deer in headlights, opening his mouth to answer. The sound of something crashing and a grunt made their heads snap toward the abandoned factory. Glancing at each other, Betty shook her head at him, eyes narrowing in a warning. He looked down to the ground, and then suddenly made a mad dash for the factory’s slightly opened entrance. “Liam!” She whisper-yelled, running after him when his figure disappeared into the dark entrance.</p><p>Grabbing the door, she swung herself into a slightly taller figure and jumped back a bit. Liam was standing in front of her, frozen with a handheld flashlight beaming onto the scene in front of him. Betty furrowed her brows, walking to stand beside him, seeing a look of shock on his features. Looking from him to where the light was shining, her brows relaxed and her eyes widened at the carnage.</p><p>Three torn-up bodies lay strewn about, ripped to pieces and leaking fresh blood. The brunette gagged, turning away and heaving. Liam blinked awake from his horrified trance, looking to Betty and placing a hand on her back. The woman put a hand up, wordlessly telling him that she was fine. She straightened up, pulling her own flashlight from her jacket’s deep pocket and shining it around. Before she could walk forward, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.</p><p>“What happened here?” Liam questioned, attempting to blink away his fear. Betty sucked her lips in, letting them go with a sigh. </p><p>“Would you believe me if I said it was vampires?” The blond man stared at her before shaking his head. Closing her eyes, she nodded, licking her lips. “Then it’s a serial killer.” Shaking his hand off, she continued to walk deeper into the factory, shining her light around. Liam seemingly followed close behind. </p><p>Stepping over the body parts, Betty heard Liam’s footsteps dissipate. Stopping, she turned to see where he had gone. Shining her light, her eyebrows quirked upward when she spotted him squatting over a torso.</p><p>“Uh, what’re you doing?” She asked, squatting down beside him though a bit further away. Liam, reaching his hand to where the neck of the victim should have been, lifted a blood-stained necklace of a pentagram. His blue eyes meet Betty’s, clearly knowing the meaning behind the necklace.</p><p>“This is the necklace the Newport Coven wears.” The brunette furrowed her brows in confusion, head tilting slightly.</p><p>“Newport Coven?” Liam let the necklace fall back to the torso.</p><p>“Some teenagers that believe in witchcraft,” he straightened up and Betty followed. “Whoever did this clearly didn’t like what they were doing.” The woman kept her light trained on the torso. The light quickly went in another direction when a groan caught their attention. Glancing at each other, Betty motioned her head for him to follow behind her. </p><p>Slowly nearing a slumped figure, Betty flashed her light toward it. Glancing down at her foot, she could see a red line underneath it and before she could inspect it, Liam ran out from behind her toward the figure on the floor.</p><p>“Melissa!” He quickly fell to his knees beside his sister’s sleeping figure, Betty followed to stand beside him as he inspected her. Finding her to be injury-free, Liam hugged her. “I’m so sorry I left you, I’ll never do it again.” He scooped her legs up with her arm, picking her up and carrying her. He looked to Betty with questioning eyes, hesitation evident in his movements. The brunette had the same hesitation, eyes glancing off to the bodies before landing back on the siblings. </p><p>“Go,” she told him, motioning her head toward the entrance. “I’ll take care of this.” He stared at her before nodding quickly.</p><p>“Thank you.” He whispered, taking off toward the entrance and leaving her behind in the dark and creepy factory. Betty let out a sigh, a gnawing feeling in her gut telling her that she made a mistake. Pulling out her phone, she dialed Sam’s number. It only rang once and he quickly answered.</p><p>“Could you not do that, Betty?” Sam began, worry evident in his voice. Betty wanted to feel annoyed by his constant hovering, but she only felt guilty for worrying him so much. “Hanging up all willy nilly.”</p><p>“Sorry,” she apologized, flashing her light toward the bodies once more. “Everything’s fine though.” She assured him, stepping closer to the bodies and squinting at certain parts. “Weird.” She said to herself, barely above a whisper.</p><p>“What’s weird?” Dean asked, a little too close to the phone. The brunette pulled the phone far away, cringing at Dean’s volume.</p><p>“Looking at the bodies here,” she began, trailing off a bit as she pulled her handgun out of her waistband to lift, what she assumed to be, a neck up. Bite marks peppered the body part, and she squinted at a tooth that seemed to have stayed stuck in one of the bites. “It’s almost like they tore each other apart.” </p><p>“Wicked.” Dean quipped. “Ow!” He yelped, and Betty assumed Sam had punched him. </p><p>“Stop being so insensitive, Dean.” Sam lectured, Betty smiled a little before the smile fell when she remembered where she was. “So the girl was fine?” The brunette shrugged.</p><p>“Seems so,” she answered, turning back to where they had found her. “But,” she began, her foot once again landing on that red line from earlier. “Something feels off.” Following the line, she noted that it made a circular shape. Her light landed on a worn book laying just outside of the circle. Squatting down, she scooped the book up and shined her light on its pages, skimming it. Her eyes widened at the words and she turned to where Melissa had been laid, dead center of a pentagram. “Shit.”</p><p>San blinked, caught off guard by the brunette cursing. Dean mirrored the same shock, looking over to his brother’s bed in the rundown motel room they shared. </p><p>“What’s wrong, Bets?” Dean asked, breaking their shocked silence and leaning back in his own bed toward the phone. </p><p>“Teenagers messing with witchcraft,” she mumbled in response, snapping the spellbook closed and taking off toward the entrance. “Oh, God. I shouldn’t have let him go. Shit, shit!” Arriving at her car, she pulled the door open and flung the book and phone inside. Starting the engine, she barely managed to close the door before pulling off in a panic.</p><p>“Betty,” Sam’s voice came from underneath the book, causing the brunette to reach for it and settle it on the dashboard as she sped down the empty road. “Calm down and explain.” Her pointer fingers tapped on the steering wheel, and she nervously tried to gather her thoughts.</p><p>“Uh,” she began, voice coming out on edge and horrified. “Melissa, I don’t know how or why, but seems like she got involved with the Newport Coven-”</p><p>“Witches.” Dean interrupted, tone seething with hatred. The brunette nodded, her eyes glancing off to the side of the road, hoping Melissa hadn’t woken up while in the car and causing them to crash. </p><p>“Yeah, and I guess they thought it would be cool to turn themselves into vampires.” She continued with a nervous chuckle as she attempted to calm herself. “But they were only novices, and it backfired.” </p><p>“How did it backfire, Betty?” Sam questioned, Betty took a deep breath and reached back for the spellbook. She swerved a bit, almost driving off the road as she plopped the book onto the dashboard beside the phone. Her eyes glanced from notes written on the blank space under the spell to the road as she reached the city limits. </p><p>“One of them kept notes after they performed the spell,” she began. “At the beginning, everything was going fine. But some of them started turning feral, fighting with each other.” She continued, swallowing a ball of nerves. “They had to throw the bodies into the river to keep their base from being found, but their numbers were dwindling.” </p><p>“God.” Dean groaned. “They were just kids.”</p><p>“The spell seemed to eat at their souls, that coupled with the nature of vampires made them hostile.” She added, taking a sharp turn into the street that the Kilter house sat on. “There’s a reversal spell,” she chimed, hope in her voice as she haphazardly pulled up to the front of the house, Liam’s black Ford in front of her. “I just hope it’s not too late.” Kicking her door open, she climbed out of the car, book in hand, and slammed it shut behind her.</p><p>“Betty?” Sam called, leaning over the phone before letting out an annoyed sigh. “What did I just say.” Dean snorted, earning a glare from his younger brother.</p><p>“She really doesn’t listen to you, does she?”</p><p>Betty ran toward the house, pausing when she saw that the door was ajar. Pulling her gun out of the holster under her jacket, she silently continued toward it. She slowly pushed it open and was met with a very different foyer.</p><p>Blood covered the sides of the narrow entrance, trailing up the staircase. Her eyes followed the trail, landing on a figure leaning over a heap at the very top. She felt her blood run cold, hearing the sound of flesh being chewed on. </p><p>“Help.” Her gaze snapped down to the living room where the pained call came from. Glancing back up to the preoccupied figure, she slowly and carefully made her way to the living room. </p><p>Walking past the entrance to the room, she felt something grab onto her pant leg. She suppressed a scream, head snapping down to blood stained Liam. Crouching down, she brushed his bloody blond hair out of his eyes.</p><p>“Liam,” she whispered, placing her gun to the ground beside them. “What happened?” His blue eyes filled with tears and he bit his bottom lip, a strained sob escaping his lips</p><p>“She- Melissa,” he whispered, choking on his words. “She woke up and she went crazy, slashing and biting.” His face contorted in sadness and worry. “My dad- agent Benson, she killed our dad. Why would she do this?” Betty shook her head, blinking away tears of her own.</p><p>“Liam, your sister,” she didn’t know how to put it. “She’s not in her right state of mind. I might be able to help her, but I’m not sure if it’ll work.” Liam grabbed onto her jacket's collar, pulling her toward him.</p><p>“Please, she’s all I have left now.” He begged, she searched his eyes. Nodding, she grabbed the hand that held her jacket and lifted the handgun with the other. She placed it into his hand.</p><p>“If it doesn’t work,” she began, not meeting his eyes. “You have to do what’s right.” Before he could protest, Betty stood and walked back to the staircase. Standing at the bottom, she took a deep breath. Spellbook in hand, she whistled sharply.</p><p>Melissa flinched, jumping over her father’s body and snarling at whatever made the noise. Her blood-red eyes landed on Betty, and she could begin to hear the brunette’s blood pumping. As quickly as Melissa registered her presence, Betty began to run back to the living room and past Liam. Melissa followed without skipping a beat, practically on Betty’s heels, stopping at the living room's entrance when hearing her brother’s heart beating rapidly beside her. She turned her attention to him, sniffing at the smell of his blood.</p><p>“Converterent alica,” Melissa seemed to have a nasty reaction to the beginning words of the incantation, a sign that it was probably working. “Adducere ad vitam mortuos,” she continued, backing up when Melissa snapped to her and looking down to the book for the next line. “Converterent ali-” The brunette felt herself get pushed up against the living room’s wall, a hand gripping tightly to her throat. One of her hands shot up to fight the hand, pulling at it, the other firmly held onto the book, knowing that if she were to drop it then it would all be over. </p><p>“Melissa,” Liam called out, he attempted to stand, giving up when his bleeding leg wouldn’t cooperate with him. "Melissa!" Melissa turned to him, releasing the brunette and stalking toward him “Please.” He begged, raising the gun in his hand slowly and shakily. </p><p>“Converterent alica,” Betty continued, causing Melissa to stop walking toward her brother and turn back. Closing her eyes, Betty prayed that this would work. “Salvabit animam.” Opening her eyes, Betty expected to be met with a normal teenage girl, crying and confused. But she still met red eyes and a feral figure that jumped at her. Once again being pushed up against the wall, Betty dropped the spellbook, both hands now preoccupied with prying away Melissa’s grip. She felt herself choke as Melissa lifted her, her feet swinging wildly in attempts to free herself. </p><p>The incantation didn’t work. Melissa was gone, and Betty was going to die. She was going to die never having the answer to her father’s whereabouts, why he left her, or where her damn powers came from.</p><p>“Melissa,” fighting back the darkness that attempted to consume her, Betty heard Liam’s voice. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was shaky, and he was probably crying, but she couldn’t open her eyes completely. A gunshot ran through the tense air, and Betty felt the hand let go and fell to the floor. She coughed, seeing Melissa turn to her brother, anger evident in her motion. Another shot, Melissa yelped, falling to the floor. Despite being shot twice, she attempted to crawl her way to Liam but a third shot, this time through the head, stopped her. Her body flopped down, dead. Betty pushed herself up, walking past Melissa’s body and seeing Liam.</p><p>He was crying, one hand shakily still holding onto the gun and the other clutching his still bleeding leg. Crouching down beside him, Betty slowly took the gun from him, letting it fall to the floor. She pulled him close, letting him rest his head in her collarbone and cry. </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He repeated, his body shaking with fear. Betty shushed him, resting her hand on the back of his head and making herself look away from Melissa’s body. Closing her eyes, she held the man tighter, repeating a prayer.</p><p>
  <em> Dear Heavenly Father, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Forgive Melissa’s sins. She turned to witchcraft out of desperation and loneliness. Show her mercy. Show pastor Kilter mercy. And give Liam the strength to get through this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Amen. </em>
</p><p>Betty sat beside Liam’s hospital bed, staring at the risen sun. The neighbors had heard the gunshots and called the police, the brunette was just grateful that the police hadn’t arrested her on the spot thanks to Liam. He had told the police that Melissa had come back, confessing to the murder of the other teens before killing his father and attacking him. Betty had been taken aback by how quickly the man had come up with a lie, and how he hadn’t even missed a beat when being questioned. </p><p>“Hell of a night, huh?” Turning away from the window, Betty let out a sigh of relief at seeing Liam waking up. He hoisted himself up, cursing at the pain that shot from his leg through his whole body. “Jesus.” He groaned. Betty looked to his leg and then up to the closed hospital room door. She placed her hand onto his leg and closed her eyes, Liam furrowed his brows at her before noting a bluish-white light coming from her hands. The light sunk into his bandages, disappearing. She opened her eyes and lifted her hands away, shooting him a smile. He glanced at her, a bit dumbfounded, before wiggling his leg around and feeling no pain. Letting out a small laugh, he looked back at her. “You’re not FBI, are you?” She returned his small laugh, looking down to the tile floor.</p><p>“Nope.” She answered, looking back at him. Silence overtook the room, not uncomfortable but a bit stiff. “So,” she began. “What are you gonna do now, Liam?” She asked, leaning back in the hospital chair. Liam shrugged, looking around the room.</p><p>“I’ll probably go back to school, finish my degree, and,” he paused for a bit, looking back to Betty. “Move on.” The brunette frowned, shuffling her hand through the pocket of her jacket, she pulled a scrap of paper out. Handing it to the man, she rose from her seat and patted a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“If you ever need me, or even just need someone to talk to,” she began, giving him a sad smile. “Just call.” His blue eyes looked from the number on a scrap of paper to her brown ones, returning the sad smile and nodding.</p><p>“I will,” he responded, placing his hand onto her and squeezing it. “Promise.”</p><p>Betty sighed, running a hand through her hair and letting it fall out of the Malibu’s window as she drove out of Newport. Blinking, she quickly brought her hand back in and onto the wheel, her other hand reaching for the phone that still sat on the dashboard. Clicking through the numbers, she settled on Officer Cortez’s number and dialed it. She glanced at the time, reasoning that now was the perfect time to call, as the phone rang.</p><p>“Betty!” Audrey’s voice always made her feel better, especially after such a draining and tragic case. She chuckled into the phone, shifting it to her other hand and fixing the other onto the wheel.</p><p>“Hey, Audrey,” she began, the cold February wind hitting her face and making her feel alive. “Happy tenth birthday.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Outlier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this is going up a day after it was supposed to, but I had a pretty rough week. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ah, Las Vegas,” Dean sighed, taking a deep breath of the chilly air entering the Impala as he drove into the city. “What casino should we hit up first?” He asked, more to himself than his younger brother who rolled his eyes at him.</p><p>“We’re not here to have fun, Dean,” Sam interjected, looking at the numbers their father had left them in a voicemail. “Dad sent us here, so there’s probably a hunt nearby,” Dean grumbled, scrunching up in his seat a bit. Sam let out a huff, leaning against the Impala’s door. “Why does he have to be like this?”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“All cryptic and crap,” hazel eyes looked out the window, watching the Vegas casinos pass them by. “Can’t he just tell us where he is? A-and what he’s planning?” Dean sighed, shaking his head slightly.</p><p>“He’s dad, Sam.” The half-assed excuse made Sam click his tongue. “And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but us Winchesters,” He began again, motioning a finger between them. “Are not the best at communication.”</p><p>“That’s an understatement,” Sam grumbled, glaring out the window.</p><p>Dean let his bag fall onto the bed of a seedy, and frankly sketchy, motel room they had booked. Sam did the same to the other bed, cringing at the stains on the walls and shuddering at a cold breeze entering an open window. Moving over to the window, Sam attempted to close it but found it stuck. Even with his whole weight pressing down on it, the window wouldn’t budge. He let out a groan and turned to his older brother, who seemed to ignore their surroundings.</p><p>“Couldn’t have gotten us a worse motel room, Dean?” His sarcastic question was met with a sideways glare from Dean. Turning to meet Sam’s gaze, he crossed his arms and tilted his head at him.</p><p>“Sorry, Sammy.” He fake apologized, and Sam knew it was fake by the way he stretched out his nickname. “But someone wouldn’t let us stay at a casino hotel when they know that they’re the best ones.” Dean gave his brother a sweet fake smile before turning back to his bag. Sam rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Petty, Dean.” He stated, moving back to his own bag. “Jerk.” He mumbled under his breath. A hand smacked the back of his neck, causing him to let out a yelp of surprise and shoot a hand up to the base of his neck. He shot a glare at his brother’s retreating figure.</p><p>“Bitch.” Dean shot back, opening the door of their motel room. “I’m gonna go get some newspapers, that way we can figure out what’s happening here.” And with that, he left. Sam sighed, returning to his bag and pulling out his laptop. He carefully checked the bed, sitting on it when it met his requirements of cleanliness. Opening his laptop, he began his search, typing in the keywords ‘strange’, ‘crime’, and, of course, ‘Las Vegas’. </p><p>He searched through what seemed to be an endless list of results, his eyes skimming through the titles. One particular article caught his attention.</p><p>Students and faculty at the University of Las Vegas were dying under mysterious circumstances. A professor had somehow fallen onto a conveniently placed pencil, being stabbed in the eye with the pencil lodging itself in his brain. A female student was crushed behind the bleachers, her being the only one with access to the controls when attempting to retrieve her phone from under them. And a male student was found inexplicably drowned in the dorm’s showers. </p><p>Sam frowned at this, it certainly fit the bill but it could also just be freak accidents. But, just because he had doubts, didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to check it out. Digging deeper into the case, he found that the Las Vegas Police were looking into it, believing it to be a possible serial killer.</p><p>Reading articles about those who were killed, Sam found that all three were beloved figures at the university. Professor Jimenez was adored by all the students that took his history and mythology courses. Nina Moreno was president of the university’s tech club and had been the one in charge of the bleachers and scoreboard during games. And Michael Saltz was captain of the football team, popular and loved by his classmates. </p><p>A sour feeling rose in Sam’s stomach. The killings were sporadic, with no clear timeline. Professor Jimenez had been killed about a year before the brothers had arrived in the city, Nina two months after him, and Michael just this past week. Furrowing his brows, he moved on to researching what possible creature could be doing this.</p><p>“Yo, Sammy!” Dean called out, swinging their door open and walking in. Sam glared at him. Dean had left to get newspapers, a quick run to the markets or gas station. Yet here he was, five hours later, drunk off his ass and no newspapers.</p><p>“Dude,” Sam began looking up from his laptop and papers that were strewn about. “What is wrong with you?” Dean waved a hand at his brother, telling him to be quiet.</p><p>“You take me to Las Vegas-”</p><p>“Dad sent us here.”</p><p>“And you think I’m just gonna sit around in a gross motel room when all those shiny casinos are out there?” He questioned, flopping onto his bed face first. “You’re wrong.” It came out muffled.</p><p>“Yeah, I really overestimated you,” Sam grumbled, glancing at the time and noting that it was nearing the midnight hours. Shutting his laptop off, he looked to his brother. Dean was still face down, snoring. Sam shook his head, already predicting all the complaining Dean would be doing in the morning</p><p>Just as he had predicted, Dean had awoken in a terrible mood. His head was killing him, but what wasn’t killing him was the wad of cash he found in his pocket. Using that money, Dean invited Sam to a nice morning breakfast at a fancy diner.</p><p>“Ugh,” Dean grumbled, his fingers rubbing his temples. “Damn it, Sam.” Sitting across from him, Sam sent him a confused look.</p><p>“How is this my fault?” He asked, looking through newspapers they had bought on the way.</p><p>“You let me go out.” Dean pointed a finger at his brother. Sam rolled his eyes at the finger, looking back to the newspapers. “So, you find our case?” He asked, shooting a dashing smile to the waitress that sat his food down in front of him. Sam nodded, handing a newspaper to him. Dean motioned at his food, a giant burger, and fries, wordlessly telling Sam that he was a little too busy to be grabbing the paper. Narrowing his eyes at his brother, Sam settled the newspaper beside his breakfast on the table.</p><p>“University of Las Vegas,” he began as Dean took a bite from his burger and leaned over the newspaper. “A professor and two students died under mysterious circumstances.” Papers shuffled and, before Dean could finish reading the article in front of him, another one was thrown on top of it. “And this morning another student died.” Claire Yepes, the name of the latest victim, a bright scholarly student and, just like the others, universally adored. Dean cringed reading that she died after a chemical had fallen on top of her in the science lab, he glanced at Sam.</p><p>“Could’ve been a freak accident.” He shrugged, Sam shook his head pointing to a line in the article.</p><p>“Footage showed the beaker fall onto her on its own.” Dean nodded, taking another bite from his burger and analyzing the student interviews.</p><p>“What do you think it is?” He asked. Sam let out an exasperated sigh.</p><p>“I’m thinking a trickster,” Sam started, picking up a fork and stabbing a piece of lettuce from his untouched salad. “All of them were pretty much in positions of power, so maybe they took advantage of them, causing the trickster to go after them.” Dean quirked an eyebrow, causing Sam to furrow his eyebrows. “Find something?” The older Winchester nodded, setting his burger down and lifting the paper to look at the other article again.</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” he began, motioning for Sam to lean in. Dean pointed at a quote from a student on the latest death. “Kelly Landon,” Sam followed his finger as it went back to three quotes from the three other deaths. “Only student who commented on all of the deaths.” </p><p>Sam and Dean sat across from a twitchy blonde. Kelly Landon, a third-year history major and, apparently, connected to each person that had been killed. Dean could tell she was nervous, her pointer finger tapping on the interrogation room table, and her green eyes shooting between Sam and Dean.</p><p>“So,” she finally spoke up. “FBI.” The brothers glanced at each other, looking back at her with a raised brow. “Must be here about those mur- deaths.” Sam definitely caught that, Dean, however, was still reeling from his hangover. </p><p>“You know that these are murders, not just accidents?” Her mouth clamped up, blinking at him and looking to the observation glass as if searching for help.</p><p>“Kelly,” Dean began, shaking off his headache and giving her dreamy eyes. “You have to tell us what you know, or we can’t help you.” She looked at him, and Sam swore he saw a glint in her eyes. He internally rolled his eyes at yet another woman falling for his older brother’s, as Dean puts it, “suave look”. </p><p>“Okay,” she sighed, scooting her chair closer to the side Dean sat. “I was nearby when all these freaky things happened,” she bit her lip, sneaking glances around the large room. “And, I think I’m the real target.” Sam’s eyes slightly widened at this.</p><p>“You think that this murderer is coming after you?” She quickly nodded in response to his question.</p><p>“Um, I was outside of professor Jimenez’s lecture room when he died. I had just asked him about the final assignment and left, I heard him scream and was the one who called the police.” Kelly explained, once again scooting her chair closer to Dean’s side. Sam ignored her strange movements but noted the squeak of the chair was clearly annoying Dean.</p><p>“What about Nina?” </p><p>“I talked to her behind the bleachers, about joining the tech club. She died a few minutes after I left with my roommate.” She told him, eyes staying on Dean but sparing Sam a glance. “And, uh, Michael and I were supposed to go on a date. He had asked me out before he died.” Sam made a face.</p><p>“He asked you out on his way to the dorm showers?” He questioned, Kelly, glanced at him, well, more like glared. Her mouth slightly opened and a look of annoyance flashed on her face before being replaced by the same sweet, innocent look she had given them.</p><p>“Yeah, guess he thought I was quite a catch.” Her eyes flashed to Dean when she said that, waiting for his reaction. Dean furrowed his brows at her, expressing clear confusion as to why she was looking at him. He glanced at Sam, sending him a look of discomfort and shifting away from the table.</p><p>“And Claire was your roommate?” Dean asked, brushing off his discomfort and looking at her.</p><p>“Yes.” She stretched out the ‘s’, batting her lashes at Dean while leaning her elbows against the table and scooting her chair in.</p><p>“Well,” Sam began, collecting the files on the table and standing, Dean following. “You have our numbers, if anything comes up just give us a call.” Before they could leave, the blonde shot up and grabbed Dean’s wrist. </p><p>“Wait!” She shouted. “I’m- I’m really scared, my roommate’s dead, and,” her eyes stayed on Dean, not even glancing at Sam. “A-and I would feel better if you guys stayed with me for a while.” Dean felt bad for her, he really did. But the death grip on his wrist was starting to bother him more than his hangover. He slowly shook her hand off, looking to Sam. He was attempting to send his little brother a message ‘say no say no say no’. </p><p>Now, Dean was usually all for a pretty girl showing interest in him. But something about Kelly rubbed him the wrong way. From the high-pitched voice, she spoke in, that made his headache worse, to the way she wouldn’t even look at Sam or acknowledge his existence. </p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>Dean slammed the Impala’s door behind him, causing Sam to jump. </p><p>“Damnit, Sam.” The younger brother furrowed his brows, confusion evident in his features.</p><p>“The hell did I do?” He questioned, Dean, sent him a glare, and motioned with his arms as if it was obvious.</p><p>“Why would you say yes to her?” Sam blinked at him, still not understanding what the problem was. “Something’s off about her.” Sam scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.</p><p>“Wow, Dean,” he began, buckling his seatbelt, something that Dean never did despite Sam’s constant lecturing. “Didn’t know you were scared of girls.” Dean rolled his eyes. “You think she’ll give you cooties?” Sam laughed, but his smile fell at seeing his brother let out a sigh. “If it bothers you this much, we could do some research on her.” Dean shook his head, straightening up in his seat.</p><p>“No, let’s just drop it.” Sam couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in his gut. Guilt. God, he hated feeling guilty. As Dean began to drive to their motel room, Sam looked out the window. He was trying to justify his agreement to stay at Kelly’s place. It was all Dean’s fault, booking them that terrible motel room and then going off to avoid researching. Karma, he told himself. Still, he felt a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. </p><p>Kelly’s house reminded Sam of Lacy’s, but instead of piles of ceramics, there were papers and awards. Sam set up in her living room, laptop on the coffee table across from the pink couch he sat on. Dean sat across from him, leaning back in a la-z-boy, practically falling asleep.</p><p>“Would one of you mind staying in my room with me?” Kelly’s voice asked, Sam looked to her but Dean closed his eyes, attempting to fake sleep. </p><p>“Uh, sure.” Sam agreed, sending a glare to his brother. Once again, Sam caught a look of annoyance on her face, only for a second before she plastered her sweet smile back on. </p><p>“Nevermind.” She quickly returned, turning away from Sam and walking back down the hall to her room. Sam watched her leave, not turning away until he heard her door close. Blinking, he looked to Dean with confusion. Dean, who had stopped faking sleep, gave his younger brother a look that said ‘see?’. </p><p>“Fine, she’s a little off.” Sam agreed, turning back to his laptop. “But wouldn’t you be if you thought you were a target of a murderer?” He asked, Dean, clicked his tongue, settling into his seat and letting his eyes fall closed.</p><p>“Let’s say,” he began, eyes still closed. “I was a chick,” Sam laughed through his nose. “And something was trying to kill me, and these two guys showed up to help me. One a giant moose, and the other a normal height.” Sam shot him a glare, but Dean’s eyes were still closed. “I would be clinging onto the freak.” Shaking his head, Sam kept his eyes on his laptop.</p><p>“Well, since she thinks she’s a target then it’s probably not a trickster.” Sam brought a hand up to rub his chin, reading the list of creatures he gathered that could be what they’re hunting. “So, it’s either a poltergeist, a curse, or a witch.” He sighed, licking his lips and debating in his head as to what it could be.</p><p>“Or maybe Kelly’s the killer.” Sam shot Dean a look, once again not getting any acknowledgment as his eyes were still closed.</p><p>“Dean.” The stern way his name was said made Dean finally open his eyes. He angled his head to look at Sam, glancing at the dark hallway before sinking into the seat deeper. It made him mad that Sam didn’t seem to think anything of Kelly’s strange behavior or her clear obsession with Dean. He waved his hand at his brother, turning himself in the seat so his back was facing Sam.</p><p>“G’night.” He grumbled. Sam looked at his brother’s figure, that feeling of guilt returning and creating a pit in his stomach. Turning back to his laptop, he opened a new tab. His fingers hovered over the keys as he hesitated, but glancing back at Dean, he took a deep breath and typed away.</p><p>Kelly Landon. Sam hadn’t found much about her, which should be good news to him, but it just didn’t make sense. All the trophies and papers around them, which Kelly had bragged about, made it seem like he should've been bombarded by articles of her. He chewed on his bottom lip, looking around the living room. His eyes landed on a picture of another girl, dark brown hair, almost black, and light brown eyes. Claire Yepes, Kelly’s roommate, and the most recent victim.</p><p>His mouth slightly opened, looking from the photo to the trophies around them. Turning back to his laptop, he entered her name into the search engine. Sure enough, articles and pictures of Claire showed up. </p><p>“Huh,” Sam said to himself, barely above a whisper so he wouldn’t wake Dean. Rubbing his face, he closed his laptop and took a deep breath. It was already around four in the morning, and he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep to look into Dean’s concerns. Shuffling on the couch, he attempted to lay down but he was too tall. He finally gave up, staying in a seated position and letting his head fall back. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep.</p><p>
  <em> God damnit.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sam cursed, finding himself trapped in another vision.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was sitting across from Dean at a diner, and his older brother had a look of discomfort on his face. Then they were back at Kelly’s apartment, Dean being tugged by the blonde into her room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then yelling, a knife narrowly missing Sam and hitting the wall beside him. Blood on his hands and a pool at his feet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Before he could fully take in the scene, he was flung back through the visions and closed his eyes. He was afraid. He knew how his visions always ended, with that image of his girlfriend, of Jess burning in front of him. And he refused to relive it again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A hand reached up to his face, cupping his cheek. He hesitantly opened his eyes, meeting the smiling face of Betty. He inhaled sharply, completely caught off guard by the appearance of the familiar brunette. She looked slightly older, her hair was shorter, to her mid-neck, and the air around her was mature and different.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sam.” She said his name softly, her hand still on his cheek and her eyes shining with tears. Sam cautiously reached his hand toward her, attempting to grab hers. </em>
</p><p>The sound of someone walking made Sam jolt awake. A feeling of disappointment welled up in his chest as he shifted in his place. He looked toward Dean, preparing to wake him up, but froze. Kelly was standing over Dean, her back was to Sam, but he could tell that she was staring at his brother. </p><p>“Kelly?” He called out. The blonde straightened up, her hands, which Sam couldn’t see, fidgeting with her coat seemingly hiding something. She turned to him, that sweet smile on her face. He subconsciously compared her smile to Betty’s, noting that it didn’t reach Kelly’s green eyes. </p><p>“I was just leaving for class.” She stated, her voice was deflated and dull, lower than it usually was when she talked to them. Dean rustled awake behind her, turning his body back to face them. Sam could see that, unlike him, Dean had gotten a good night's sleep from the pleasant look on his face. The look fell when he spotted Kelly standing in front of him, she quickly angled her body so that she could look at both of them. “I was pretty scared last night,” she began, her voice higher and sickeningly sweet as she looked at Dean. “I was hoping that you could stay in my room tonight?” She asked Dean, her hand still awkwardly hiding something in her coat. Dean stared at her with slightly wide eyes, he wasn’t quite sure what to say, he noticed Sam staring at him waiting to hear his response. Biting the inside of his cheek and looking to the floor.</p><p>“Yeah, sure.” He seemed to force the words out, and Sam took notice. Kelly gave a blinding smile, one that sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. She let out a gleeful giggle, quickly walking to the front door.</p><p>“I’ll be back later today!” She called out, leaving with the slam of the door behind her. Sam turned to his brother, a skeptical look on his face. Dean caught his look, sending him a glare in return as he shifted up to a seated position.</p><p>“What?” He questioned, tone spiteful. Sam opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. “What, Sam?” Sam closed his mouth, shaking his head and grabbing his coat from the top of the couch.</p><p>“I’ll tell you over breakfast.”</p><p>Dean’s mouth watered over the bacon and eggs the waiter placed in front of him, distracting him from whatever Sam was saying. He took his fork and shoved a large helping of eggs into his mouth, humming contently. </p><p>“Did you hear anything I just said?” Dean’s green eyes snapped up to his younger brother, fully aware that he was not listening. Sam shook his head, thanking the waiter when he received his ham and egg sandwich. “I had a vision last night.” He began again, taking a bite from his sandwich. Dean quirked his eyebrows at him, his lower lip jutting out in interest.</p><p>“What’d you see?” He asked, taking another forkful of food. Sam swallowed his bite, debating on what details to tell Dean and which to omit.</p><p>“I saw you going into Kelly’s room, well, more like she dragged you in there.” Dean suddenly lost his appetite, letting his fork fall onto his plate and leaning back against the back of the booth’s seat. “And then there was some yelling, a knife, and blood.” He continued, taking another bite from his sandwich. “I think, whatever it is, it’s going to strike tonight. And-” Dean noted the way Sam trailed off, furrowing his brows at him.</p><p>“What else did you see?” Sam’s hazel eyes glanced at him, looking away quickly. Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Come on, don’t hold out on me, Sammy.” Sam glared at him.</p><p>“Fine,” he mumbled, setting his sandwich down. “I saw Betty at the end of my vision.” Now that, that had Dean’s full attention.</p><p>“Oh.” He voiced his interest much to Sam’s dismay. “Now isn’t that interesting.” Sam’s nose wrinkled at his tone and the smirk on his face. “Is she going to be somehow appearing on this case?” Dean asked, a bit of excitement in his eyes. Sam shook his head.</p><p>“She's all the way up in North Dakota. This vision,” he paused, attempting to think of the proper way to describe what he had seen. “It seemed distant, like, it’s something from way into the future.” Dean deflated slightly at that, resting his chin in his closed fist and grumbling. “Anyway, why did you agree to stay in Kelly’s room tonight? I thought you didn’t like her.” And at the mention of Kelly, Dean’s body tensed and he glanced at his brother.</p><p>“Just,” he didn’t finish his sentence, looking out of the diner window. Dean knew why he had agreed to Kelly’s request, he wanted to prove to Sam that he wasn’t afraid of a girl. “Just cause.” He finally finished not looking back at his brother. Sam stared at him.</p><p>“If it makes you feel better, I searched her up and I didn’t find anything bad.” Dean finally looked at him. “But I also didn’t find anything good, like, about her trophies and awards. So, the worst she could be is someone lying to impress a guy she likes.” Sam said it with a light tone, a small smile on his face. His smile faltered, the uncomfortable look on Dean’s face was the one he had seen in his vision. “Dean, you don’t have to stay in her room.” Dean shook his head.</p><p>“I will.” He declared, crossing his arms and staring at his half-eaten breakfast. “I’ll prove I’m not scared of some girl.”</p><p>Sam watched the clock tick, nearing the late evening hours. Kelly would be back soon, and Sam could tell that Dean was hyper-aware of that fact. His older brother’s right leg was bouncing up and down, and his finger tapped on the arm of the laz-e-boy. Sam watched him with knitted eyebrows, eyes glancing down at his laptop screen. Talking to a few other students on campus, who had known Kelly, he found out that she wasn’t originally from Nevada. Instead, she had come from Chicago, Illinois when she was around three years old. This meant that any comfort Dean had gotten from Sam saying that he checked her out if he felt any at all, was based on nothing. </p><p>The door opened, and Sam could see Dean stiffen. Kelly walked in, letting her things fall onto the floor and grabbing Dean’s arm. She still wore the beaming smile from earlier, but her eyes were still void of any emotion. The blonde stuck close to his arm as she began to drag him along.</p><p>“Come on.” She commanded, voice hard yet still sweet when Dean hesitated. Dean glanced at his brother, sucking in the air before allowing the woman to drag him into her room. Sam watched the door close behind the two, Dean shooting him a desperate look.</p><p>He wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, Dean was clearly uncomfortable. But on the other, he was being a stubborn jackass. Shaking off his thoughts, he began typing away at his laptop. His search began with the Landon surname followed by the city of Chicago. Hitting enter, his eyes caught an article from 1986.</p><p>The Landon home had inexplicably caught fire, killing Richard Landon and his son, Christopher Landon. There were only two survivors, Richard’s wife, Erica, and his six-month-old daughter, Kelly.</p><p>Sam felt his breath hitch. The story was an exact reflection of his own, just a bit different. She lost her father where he had lost his mother, she had also lost her brother, someone who Sam, thankfully, still had by his side. Everything seemed to make sense now, at least, he thought it did. If his theory proved true, then Kelly should also possess abilities similar to his own. His train of thought was broken by the sound of shouting coming from Kelly’s room.</p><p>The door opened with a slam, Dean bursting through it and looking at Sam. He was disheveled, a cut on his cheek that was freely bleeding, and his eyes wide with fear. Sam shot up from his spot as Dean ran to him and grabbed onto his shoulders.</p><p>“Dude, I told you!” He shouted, shaking Sam. The younger brother looked slightly confused before noticing a pair of scissors sticking out of Kelly’s bedroom door. His eyes widened as the scissors pulled themselves out of the wood with a violent jerk, Kelly walked out behind it and Sam’s blood ran cold. Her whole face was contorted in anger and hatred, causing Sam to move in front of Dean, knowing that she was coming after him.</p><p>“Kelly,” he began carefully, the blonde stepped toward them, the scissors following close behind. “You don’t want to do this.” She let out a cold laugh.</p><p>“Oh, but I do.” Her tone was still somehow sweet despite the murderous look in her eyes. “Ya see, Sam,” she began, the scissors coming around in front of her and she ran a finger along with the sharpened blades. “I’ve had a problem with rejection all my life.” Her eyes stared coldly at the blades. “My mother blamed me for the fire, for my brother and father dying. So, she rejected me and dumped me onto my aunt and uncle, who saw me as a burden.” Sam was unnerved by the smile that still sat on her face as she talked. “Professor Jimenez rejected my application to work on his study. Nina rejected my application to join the tech club. Claire rejected my help on her experiments. And Michael and Dean,” she laughed, looking back to the brothers. “Michael and Dean rejected me completely.” With a flick of her wrist, the scissors went flying toward them. Both jumped, narrowly avoiding the weapon.</p><p>“Holy shit.” Dean cursed, backing away from the scissor impaled on the wall beside them. Sam looked back to Kelly.</p><p>“Kelly, we can figure this out.” He offered, she narrowed her eyes at him, raising her hand. The knife holder in the connected kitchen began to shake as the blades were pulled out, floating toward the three. </p><p>“I appreciate the offer,” she smiled. “But I’d rather just kill both of you and call it a night.” Flicking her wrist again, a few knives were sent on their way. Sam was able to dodge the knives, a piece of his hair becoming a casualty as it was snipped off by a knife stabbing the wall beside his head. </p><p>“Kelly, please,” Sam didn’t want things to end badly. Kelly was like him, like Betty. If he could somehow turn things around, maybe they could all discover the secrets behind their powers together. “We can help you with your powers.” She ignored him, sending more knives in his direction. He dodged them, falling to the ground, and heard Dean yelp in surprise. Looking to his brother, Sam saw Dean pinned to the wall by knives piercing through his clothes.</p><p>“You’ve been a thorn in my side.” He turned, hearing Kelly’s voice near him. She stood over him, knives prepared to rain down on him. His eyes glanced to a knife impaling the floor beside him, looking back as Kelly raised her arm. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” Just as she was about to bring her arm down, Sam pulled the knife out and stabbed her. Her green eyes widened and she leaned onto Sam, hand falling. Along with her hand, the knives fell, clattering on the ground. Sam let go of the knife when he felt blood seep onto his hands, Kelly looked at him as she crumbled to her knees. Blood spilled from her lips.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. Kelly’s eyes closed and she fell forward. He couldn’t stop the shaking of his blood-stained hands, looking at them as blood began to pool at his feet. Closing his eyes, he tried to steady his breathing. He felt a hand on his cheek again, a feeling of calm overcoming him. Opening his eyes, he had expected to see the vision again, but the terrible scene was all that met him.</p><p>Three rings, and a click.</p><p>“Hey, Sam. Everything okay?” Hearing Betty’s voice always seemed to make him feel better. He was kind of shocked that she had even picked up, it is almost two in the morning. </p><p>“Yeah, just,” he hesitated, rubbing a muddy hand on his jacket. “Just had kind of a messed up case.” Dean scoffed from the driver’s seat of the Impala.</p><p>“More than just 'messed up.” He grumbled. </p><p>“Oh, what was it about?” Sam once again hesitated. He couldn’t really say ‘well, it was a girl that had powers like us that went crazy and murdered people, and the only way we could stop her was by killing her’, Betty was already on edge about her powers and sharing this with her would be like adding gasoline to an already huge fire. Biting his lip, he let out a sputter.</p><p>“Uh, I don’t really want to talk about it.” It came out quick and slightly rude, and Sam automatically went to correct himself. “It’s one of those cases.” He could hear her hum.</p><p>“Yeah, I know how it is.” Despite talking on the phone almost daily with Betty, Sam couldn’t help the feeling that he still didn’t really know her. She never shared much about her cases, other than the occasional situation when he caught her mid hunt, leaving Sam curious as to what she got up to. She also never seemed to sleep, always picking up no matter the time of day. His train of thought was broken by the sound of a phone ringing on Betty’s end. “Sorry, Sam. I have to go, it's about the case I’m working.” He nodded.</p><p>“No problem. Call you later?” He questioned, voice hopeful,</p><p>“Absolutely.” Smiling, Sam closed the phone and sighed. He felt Dean’s eyes bore into him at the stoplight, and frowned slightly.</p><p>“What?” He asked, turning to his brother. Dean licked his lips, clearly wanting to save something but refraining. “Just say it, Dean.”</p><p>“Do you think Betty will-”</p><p>“No.” He cut Dean off before he could finish his accusation. “She’s nothing like Kelly.” He defended, turning away from his brother. Dean made a noise of annoyance.</p><p>“Think about it, Sam,” Dean said, Sam, turned further away to look out the window. “Her powers are developing quickly, like Kelly. She’s alone, like Kelly.”</p><p>“She’s not alone,” Sam bit back, turning to his brother again. “She has us, and that little girl she saved.” Audrey, whenever Betty talked about her it was clear that she saw the kid as her family. And the young girl seemed to be equally attached to Betty, reasonable since the brunette had helped her. Dean glanced at his brother before looking to his wheel and then back to the road.</p><p>“I know,” he began, biting his bottom lip. “But if she does,” he put a hand up to stop a protest from Sam. “We’re gonna have to deal with it.” Sam glared at the way his brother casually suggested they might have to kill their friend, but he knew that Dean was right. If Betty suddenly decided to one day use her powers for evil, it was their duty as hunters to stop her. His mind thought back to that vision, the maybe four or five years older Betty, smiling at him like he was her whole world. </p><p>“She won’t.” He said, breaking the tense silence. Dean spared a glance at him, shrugging his shoulders as they left the city of Las Vegas.</p><p>“Hope you’re right, Sam.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Symbiotic Relationship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for there being no update last week, got really busy with school. I might have to take a hiatus, and return some time in the spring when classes become a bit more manageable.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sorry, Sam. I have to go,” Betty apologized, reaching across her motel bed to the flip phone sitting on a drawer. The sticker with ‘FBI’ written on it was becoming unstuck, Betty made a mental note to look for some tape while shopping for supplies.“It’s about the case I’m working on.” </p><p>“No problem. Call you later?” She smiled at his response, flipping the other phone open.</p><p>“Absolutely.” Hearing the call end, Betty quickly pressed accept on the other. “This is special agent Smith.”</p><p>“Ah, Smith, thank God I got ahold of you.” The voice of a woman answered. “Listen, we just got another body. Forest River Park, figured you’d want to take a look at the crime scene.” Betty closed her eyes, cringing at the thought but knowing that it was what she had to do. Opening her eyes, she let out a breath she was holding and stood from her place on the motel bed.</p><p>“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”</p><p>The crime scene was busy, techs running around the place and shouting at each other whenever they found another part of the body. Just like the rest of the victims, this man was ripped to pieces from his torso down. It was a brutal scene, but Betty wasn’t sure if it topped the case back in Newport, it was certainly going to be an image that stayed stuck in her mind for the rest of her life though. </p><p>“Can I borrow a glove?” She asked the crime scene tech crouched beside her, the young man nodded, passing her a latex glove. Stretching it onto her right hand, Betty rolled up her sleeve and stuck her hand into what remained of the chest cavity. Feeling around, she ignored the looks she received from the detective and the crime scene crew around her. When her hand found nothing, she took her hand out and took the glove off. “Has anyone found the heart yet?” The female detective shook her shock off and cleared her throat.</p><p>“Uh, no.” Betty furrowed her brows looking at the area around the body, that’s when her eyes caught sight of a yellow powder. Picking a little of it up with her fingertips, she sniffed it. “What is that?” The detective asked.</p><p>“Sulphur.” The brunette answered, a pit was forming in her stomach and confusion was storming in her brain. Demons don’t usually take hearts, they mostly just want souls, so whatever the hell was happening here, Betty didn’t like it. </p><p>“Sulphur?” The detective questioned, flipping through her notepad. “We didn’t find anything like that on the other victims.” </p><p>“That’s because those crime scenes were cleaned up.” The crime scene tech spoke up, looking between the two women with hazel eyes. “This time the murder was interrupted,” he motioned to an obviously traumatized teenage couple being questioned on the back of an ambulance. “Those two stumbled upon two guys gutting this dude.” Betty made a face as the tech’s way of speaking.</p><p>“Ryan,” the detective began, crossing her arms. “What have I said about talking like that.” Ryan stared at her with a tight-lipped blank look on his face.</p><p>“Not to do it?”</p><p>“Not to do it.” She repeated, shaking her head at him and turning to Betty. “Sorry about him,” She apologized. “He’s fresh out of college, hasn’t really learned to be professional yet.” Betty smiled at the detective.</p><p>“No worries, detective Conner.” She assured, raising to her full length, a hair or two taller than the detective. “I’ve met lots of colorful people in this line of work,” she began, placing her hands onto her hips and shrugging. “Ryan’s hardly the weirdest.”</p><p>“But I’m up there, right?” Ryan chimed, still crouching next to the body. Betty turned slightly to him and, with a small chuckle, nodded. The man closed his fist, shaking it in victory. Conner rolled her eyes at him before Betty turned back to her.</p><p>“When was the last attack again?” The brunette asked the detective, Conner licked her lips as she thought.</p><p>“Well, the body was found here yesterday around four in the morning,” she began, finally giving in and turning to her notes for more information. “But the coroner had estimated she had been killed the night before,” looking up from her notes, the dirty blonde-haired detective sighed. “Around this time.” Betty nodded, surveying the area and looking for anything that could pinpoint exactly what she was up against. Her eyes settled on two intersecting dirt paths, good enough. Leaving the lit crime scene, Betty could sense detective Conner following closely behind her. </p><p>Coming up to the dark dirt paths, Betty pulled her flashlight out of her suit jacket and shined it onto a small mound. Sighing through her nose, she squatted down and uncovered the mound with her free hand. Sure enough, a small box lay in the hole. </p><p>“A box?” Conner asked, Betty grabbed the wooden box. Prying it open, she found exactly what she was expecting. A picture of the victim, graveyard dirt, and the bone of a black cat. “The hell was this guy tryna do? Summon a demon?” Betty bit back a ‘yeah’, letting her eyes look away from the box and to the darkened forest around her. The darkness stared back at her, not letting up in any secrets lurking within it.</p><p>“Well, there’s definitely something here,” Betty began, standing and turning to the detective who looked at her with furrowed brows. “What- whoever it is,” she corrected herself. “Is probably attacking those leaving these boxes behind.” Conner nodded, jotting the brunette’s every word into her notepad. Betty’s eyes caught what seemed to be red smoke near the lit crime scene. Her eyes flickered in its direction, but nothing, just Ryan staring at them and then sending her a friendly wave when their eyes met. She couldn’t help narrow her eyes at him suspiciously, while simultaneously sending him a wave back.</p><p>Betty let herself fall onto her motel bed. A sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes, her hand went up to her earring, playing with it as she attempted to recall what she had seen at the crime scene. The dark red smoke that, for just a split second, seemed to have been observing her before disappearing. Betty did not doubt in her mind that she had joined her father on Hell’s shitlist after her encounter with that crossroads demon, so there’d be no point in putting a box together. Her hands went up to her face as she questioned what she would do now. <em> Help</em>, she finally admitted to herself after mulling it over, <em> I need help.  </em></p><p>Two rings, and a click.</p><p>“Bets!” It wasn’t unusual for Dean to answer Sam’s phone, but the excitement and happiness in his voice was something that she had never heard before. She smiled at his bright and cheerful tone, a good sign after having sensed the tension of their last case.</p><p>“Hey, Dee.” She returned his greeting, albeit without as much enthusiasm. “Is Sam around?” She questioned.</p><p>“Sammy? He’s around here somewhere.” Hearing him talk, Betty finally realized why Dean’s attitude was so great. The sound of drinks clinking, people laughing, and pool balls clinking. “Hold on.” He grumbled. There was lots of shuffling, making Betty think that Dean was on a fine line between sober and plastered. “Sam! Your girlfriend’s calling!” Her eyebrows quirked at his words, yup, completely drunk. There was a shuffle of what Betty assumed to be a handoff.</p><p>“Jesus, Dean.” She heard Sam mumble, he sounded stone-cold sober and fed up. “Betty,” he said her name with a softer tone, the noise behind him faded away as he seemed to leave the bar. “Sorry, Dean insisted on us ‘letting loose’ after the case. I couldn’t stop him, and he dragged me out to be his designated driver.” </p><p>“It’s no big deal, Sam.” She assured him with a small chuckle. “Glad to hear Dean unwinding.” Sam huffed at her statement.</p><p>“I guess, he’s unwinded a little too much though.” She stifled a giggle, hearing Sam clear his throat along with a nervous laugh. “How’s your case going?” He asked, Betty licked her lips and inhaled sharply.</p><p>“Uh, actually I was calling to ask for help.” Sam blinked, the March breeze pushing at his growing hair. Betty had never asked for help, never seemed to need it. Honestly, Sam was always a bit worried about her. She hunted alone and ran into situations headfirst without much thought of dangers or consequences. </p><p>“Help?” He hadn’t meant to ask the question out loud, but he was sincerely bewildered. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m dealing with a crossroads demon that’s up to no good,” Sam nodded at her voice, waiting for her to tell him more. “And, well, I’m pretty sure I’ve been banned from their services indefinitely.” Sam gave a pitiful smile that she couldn’t see. “Anyway, I need help getting the thing to show up.” </p><p>“You’re all the way in Fargo, right?” Sam asked, walking to the Impala and opening the door. “Dean and I are looking for our dad in San Diego, but I’m sure my dad knew someone around there who can help.” He pulled out his father’s journal, sitting into the passenger seat and flipping through the pages he vaguely remembers having to do with North Dakota.</p><p>“Oh, I would really appreciate that.” Betty cursed the disappointment in her voice and hoped that Sam hadn’t noticed it. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the flipping of pages and a few hums from Sam. Betty felt her eyelids begin to become heavy, and she let herself sink into the comfortable motel mattress. </p><p>“Alright,” her eyes shot open at his voice, inhaling and sitting up. “I found a hunter my dad worked with back in ‘04, her name is Winifred Blanc.” He continued, clicking his tongue and flipping through more pages. “They worked a werewolf case together, and I guess something happened because my dad never finished writing about it.” Betty’s nose scrunched at that, her eyes looking to the ceiling. She didn’t have a good feeling about this, the pit in her stomach was deepening again. “I can text you her number and address.” The brunette bit her lip, her eyes looking to the floor and glancing around. </p><p>“Yeah, that would be great.”</p><p>Betty’s brows furrowed at the cabin. Of course, the suspicious hunter lived in a creepy cabin in the depths of the murder forest, because God could not be sending her any more signs that this was a bad idea. Clearing her throat and her worries, she exited the Malibu and made her way to the front door. Knocking, she nervously looked around the woods, turning back when she heard the door creak open slightly. Through the small opening, a green eye glared at her.</p><p>“What do you want.” The brunette swallowed, opening her mouth and sputtering.</p><p>“Uh,” she began, looking for her words. “I’m Betty Rivera, I heard about you from John Winchester’s kids.” The green eye blinked at her, still glaring. “And, well, I need help on a hunt.” </p><p>“What kind of hunt?” Her voice was softer, calmer. </p><p>“A demon.” The eye widened. “Who, I’m suspecting, is up to something.” </p><p>“Why do you suspect that?” Betty slightly brightened at the woman’s interest.</p><p>“The victims are all missing their hearts,” she started, crossing her arms. “Might be collecting them for some kind of spell or part of a deal with some other creature.” She met the eyes again. “I can’t summon it, and was hoping that you could help.” There was a brief silence, and then the door slammed in her face. The brunette’s mouth hung open, sighing, she closed her mouth and turned to leave. She stopped at the sound of the door opening, turning to meet a taller grey-haired woman.</p><p>“I’ll help you.”</p><p>“So,” Betty began, awkwardly sitting in the rundown cabin. “You been hunting for a long time, Ms. Blanc?” The older woman gave her a bored look, allowing the brunette to see the lines of indifference on her face. </p><p>“You can call me Winnie.” The brunette smiled as Winnie looked back to the summoning box she was putting together. “I started hunting when I was in high school.” Winnie began, eyes half-lidded and hands meticulously shuffling through jars on a shelf above her. “Some piece of shit werewolf killed my boyfriend,” Betty’s smile fell at the tragic story, being replaced by a pitiful look. “Spent my whole teen years tracking it down. Parents thought I was crazy.” Winnie chuckled darkly, looking back to the younger woman. “Don’t look at me like that.” She remarked, glaring at her. Betty’s eyebrows quirked as she attempted to control her facial expression.</p><p>“Sorry.”  She quickly apologized, looking away to the rotting wood floor. Winnie sighed, grabbing a sealed jar labeled ‘graveyard dirt’ and bringing it down to the table. </p><p>“Listen,” Betty glanced back up to the grey-haired woman. “I’m not some tragic person. I had a choice,” Winnie continued, turning back to the box and popping the jar open. “Could’ve ignored what I knew, led a normal life, pretended that my boyfriend was mauled by a bear. But I didn’t.” She shook the jar slightly, allowing a good clump of dirt to fall on top of a picture of herself. “What about you?” She questioned, genuine interest in what the brunette would say. Betty blinked, straightening away from the wall she was leaned on.</p><p>“What about me?” Betty didn’t mean for it to come out so rude, and she was quick to sputter in an attempt to fix the mood. “Uh, I mean-” a hand cut her off.</p><p>“Why are you in the hunting game?” Winnie clarified, letting her hand drop back to her side. “You seem like a normal kid, can’t imagine you’re doing this out of free will.” Betty slightly frowned but couldn’t refute the older woman’s assumption. </p><p>“I’m looking for my dad,” she began, crossing her arms. “He was a hunter.”</p><p>“Was?” Winnie questioned, raising a brow at the girl. Betty nodded.</p><p>“Yes,” she began again. “He retired when he married my mom.” At that Winnie let out a snort which earned her a look of confusion from the brunette. </p><p>“Very funny,” the older woman chuckled, closing the box with a flick of her wrist. “No hunter ever ‘retires’.” She continued leaning onto the table, shaking her head at Betty. “You either die or get killed.” Betty frowned, her face becoming tense and her body stiffening. </p><p>“My dad retired.”</p><p>“Then why are you looking for him?” Betty’s eyes widened. “Was he kidnapped by something?” The question was mocking as if Winnie already knew the answer. The brunette’s brows furrowed, her temper walking a fine line.</p><p>“No, he went back to hunting.” She answered, sinking into herself slightly. “But when I find him-”</p><p>“When you find him what.” Betty was once again caught off guard by the change in Winnie’s tone, this one harsh and hateful. “You’re just going to go back to whatever normal, perfect life you had before?” The older woman stepped toward her, towering over Betty with an intimidating and mocking gaze. “No matter how much you want that,” Winnie continued, leaning down just inches away from the brunette’s face. “It’s impossible.” Betty didn’t allow herself to be intimidating, stretching to her full height of five foot eight, still feeling small in comparison to Winnie’s six foot two. </p><p>“How do you know?” Winnie’s eyes slightly widened before narrowing at her, her nose twitched. Clicking her tongue at the short girl, Winnie turned away and returned to the desk. She picked the box up and motioned toward the door.</p><p>“Let’s get this over with.”</p><p>Betty sat in the Malibu, leaned against the steering wheel, Winnie sat in the passenger seat beside her, stiff and sitting up tall. The brunette glanced at her a few times, occasionally looking at her watch and shaking her leg anxiously. It was already around one in the morning, but Winnie wanted to wait a little longer before burying her box at the crossroads. So, they’ve been sitting in the Malibu all night, in awkward silence.</p><p>“Alright,” Winnie broke the silence, opening the passenger door. Betty shot up straight at her voice and turned to her. “I’m going to go bury this sucker, you,” the older woman pointed at the brunette. “Stay here until it appears.” Betty furrowed her brows, frowning at Winnie’s demanding tone. “Understand.” The brunette withheld a roll of her eyes.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” Now, just because Winnie was getting on every single one of Betty’s nerves did not mean that the brunette was going to do the same. The sooner this was over with, the quicker she could leave and forget she ever met the older woman. Winnie nodded, slamming the car door shut behind her, startling Betty. Leaning back in her seat, the brunette crossed her arms and grumbled while watching the older woman.</p><p>Through the windshield, Betty watched Winnie dig a hole and place the box into it. Her eyes flicked around, searching for any sign of the demon. Uncrossing her arms, she placed one hand on the door and the other on the gun strapped to her belt. With a few minutes going by, Betty’s hands relaxed and she ran her tongue along her top teeth. Bringing her hand up to her earring, she spun a few times and kept her eyes on Winnie’s figure. </p><p>A shadowed figure appeared behind the older woman, causing Betty’s hand to shoot down back to the door handle. She hissed, her hand shooting back up to her ear while the other reached to open the door. Slamming it closed behind her, she shook off the stinging in her left ear and pulled her gun out.</p><p>“Don’t move.” She ordered, raising the gun to the back of the figure. Winnie turned, eyes slightly widening at the scene behind her. Betty motioned for the older woman to walk around behind her. </p><p>“Ah, Elizabeth. What a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” Betty’s eyebrows furrowed, the voice sounded strange. It was almost like a normal voice apart from what seemed like feedback and slight distortion. “Not exactly who I was aiming for, but you are a welcomed surprise.” The figure turned, Betty almost lowered her weapon when met with a horrific face layered above a human one. “I even picked a vessel that suited your taste when I saw that you were in town.” The demonic face was smirking, smug before it slowly fell. “You don’t seem too thrilled to see me.”</p><p>“You’re a demon. Why would I be thrilled?” She questioned, gun staying trained on him. His smirk came back as he brought his hands behind his back and walked toward them.</p><p>“Because, unlike Agares, I’m much more entertaining.” Leaning toward the brunette, the demon’s eyes flashed white. Betty felt herself become breathless and her hands tremble, the sinking feeling in her stomach made her want to vomit. “Winifred, be a dear and restrain her.” Hands grabbed onto her arms from behind, nails sinking into Betty’s skin. The brunette let out a yelp, the gun falling out of her hands and arms being pulled and pinned to her back. Betty tried to turn her head to look at her attacker.</p><p>“Winnie!?” She screamed, struggling against the older woman's hold.</p><p>“Shut up.” Betty stopped when Winnie pulled her wrists with a painful twist and yanked her onto the ground. </p><p>“You see, Elizabeth,” the demon began, fixing his suit. “Winifred here is indebted to me. Had a little werewolf accident,” he continued, eyes looking mockingly at the older woman holding Betty back. “Left for dead by John Winchester, and blah, blah, blah.” He waved his hand, brushing off the rest story. “Who cares. All I care about is you.” He leaned over to her eye level and gave her nose a small boop.</p><p>“What do you want from me?” Betty’s tone was harsh, and she sent an intense glare toward the demon. The demon smiled, this one chillingly gleeful.</p><p>“I mostly want your soul, your heart’s just a treat for my doggie.” A low growl sounded behind Betty. “Oh, quit being sensitive, Winifred.” He shot a glare at Winnie, looking back at Betty with a cat-like smile. “I would usually just let my pet go wild, but I don’t think the knights of Hell would be too happy if I mangled your body too much.” The brunette’s eyes widened. The demon grabbed the gun, melting it away in his hand. “Let her go, Winifred.”</p><p>“Eligos-”</p><p>“I said let her go.” The grip on Betty’s wrist loosened, confusion filling her as she rubbed her raw skin. She stood quickly, backing away from the two.</p><p>“What’re you planning?” She questioned the demon. Eligos suddenly appeared behind her, shoving her back down to the ground.</p><p>“I just love a show, don’t you?” He snickered, with a wave of a hand, a chair along with a table appeared beside him. Taking a seat, he materialized a cup and sipped from it. “Especially when the odds are fixed in my favor.” Betty furrowed her brows at him, confusion evident in her features. “Sic’em.” A growl made the brunette snap back toward where Winnie stood.</p><p>Moonlight shone down on the crossroads. Betty’s eyes widened, seeing Winnie grow taller, fur sprouting all over her body, and her nails growing sharper. A wolf-like face looked back at her, baring its teeth at her. With a snarl, Winnie got down on four legs and stalked toward the brunette.</p><p>Betty shot up to her feet, eyes flickering at the Malibu, sitting incredibly far away. Damn her for parking so far away. Stepping backward, Betty brought her eyes back to the creature. Just as Winnie jumped at her, Betty rolled out of her aim, instead, she hit a tree, impaling her claws into it and ripping at the bark. A loud slurp broke the tension. The two looked toward Eligos, still sipping away at whatever was in his cup.</p><p>“Don’t mind me.” Betty scoffed at him, turning back to Winnie and focusing on the issue at hand. She didn’t have a single weapon on her, having left them in her car like some inexperienced hunter who hadn’t been hunting for nine months. Raising to her feet, Betty attempted to come with some sort of plan. Winnie jumped at her again, Betty dodged it a little too late, her shoulder getting hooked on the werewolf’s claws. The brunette felt her skin tear as Winnie slammed her into the ground underneath her. </p><p>“Winnie,” she begged, tears pricking at her eyes and her hands coming up in defense. “Please.” For a split second, it seemed like Winnie was rethinking and regretting her actions, green eyes going soft. </p><p>“Winifred.” Eligos’ cold voice broke through the moment, causing Winnie to look at him. “End it.” He motioned sharply with his hand, cutting an imaginary throat. Winnie swallowed, glancing from Betty to the demon, distracted.</p><p>Betty closed her eyes, reaching her hand up to her earring. Taking a deep breath, she tugged it out, biting back a scream and ignoring the warm blood traveling down to the back of her neck. Closing her fist over the earring, Betty opened her eyes and waited.</p><p>Winnie turned back to Betty, her mind seemingly made up. Raising her arm, the moonlight reflected off of her claws. Biting her lip, Betty let out a shaky breath and adjusted the earring in her hand. </p><p>Eligos stirred his tea, looking up when hearing a choked yelp. Betty gained the upper hand, rolling them both over and repeatedly stabbing at the werewolf’s throat. The demon set his tea down, the cup, along with the table, dematerializing. Standing, he walked toward the two. Betty was still swinging, out of breath and her arms covered in blood.</p><p>“Didn’t know you had it in you.” The demon remarked, his voice made the brunette freeze mid-swing. What she did seemed to barely dawn on her as her arms fell to her side, the earring falling from her right hand to the ground. “My, my, my,” Eligos said, examining the dead werewolf and the listless brunette. “Really did a number on this one.” He had meant to follow the sentence with a laugh, but a hand grabbing at his throat cut him off. Her head slightly tilted to meet his eyes, and Eligos felt an excited shiver go down his spine.</p><p>Betty’s brown eyes were like a bottomless pit, void of any light or emotion. They peeked under her dark hair, bangs framing them while darkening her face. Eligos gave a sideways smirk, watching the brunette rise to her feet.</p><p>“I thought Arages was exaggerating,” he choked out, one of his hands coming up to rest on hers. “But, you,” he grinned, his demonic face exposing sharp teeth. “You really are terrifying.” A glint in his eyes made the brunette even angrier, her grip tightening around his throat. Eligos grunted against her strength, his hand attempting to remove hers but failing.</p><p>“Get out of him.” The command made his grip on his vessel weak, but he clung on, still smiling. </p><p>“You would be such an amazing asset.” He continued, ignoring the eyes that bore into him. “And I-” he choked slightly, falling to his knees. “I could soak in the glory of delivering our victory.” He laughed, reaching a hand up to the brunette. “Join me.” </p><p>“Never.” She replied, hand squeezing his throat harder. “Get out.” His grip slipped, a bit of his white essence seeping out of the vessel’s mouth. </p><p>“One day,” he began, gripping her hand again. “One day you will realize that you and I are not so different.” Her grip lessened in shock at his words. “Look what you’ve done,” he glanced at Winnie’s body, Betty following his line of sight. “You killed someone.” He reveled in the guilt building up in her eyes. </p><p>“She- she was a-”</p><p>“A monster?” Her head snapped back to him, brimming with tears and fear. “You’re a monster.” He once again reached a hand up to her, Betty looked to the ground before closing her eyes in thought. “I can help you control your powers. Come with me, Nuez.” Her eyes snapped open, void and emotionless again. Eligos’ smirk fell, knowing that he had failed to sway her.</p><p>“Go to hell.”</p><p>Betty counted her lucky stars that Ryan had been possessed while on a bender, still completely plastered when he came to and not noticing the blood covering the brunette or the lit pyre. Dropping him off at his house, she waved him off, making sure he got in safely before letting herself lean back and finally relax. Reaching to the rearview mirror, she angled it to look at her left ear. Bloodstained her white dress shirt and suit jacket, trailing down her neck, but her ear was healed, not even the piercing left behind. With a sigh, she began to take out her other earring and fixed the mirror. Staring at the silver stud, Betty contemplated what to do with it as a breeze entered her open window. She was startled out of her thought by a phone ringing in her pant pocket, reaching for it, Sam’s name stared back at her. </p><p>“Hey, Sam.”</p><p>“Hey, Betty. Just checking in to see how your case is going?” She let out a groan at his question, face scrunching up in reaction. “Judging by your reaction, I can only assume it didn’t go too well.” The brunette closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead and sighing.</p><p>“No, no,” she began, taking a deep breath and opening her eyes to stare at the Malibu’s ceiling. “It- it went well.” Lying to Sam never felt right, but she couldn’t have him worrying about her. She was her own responsibility. “It was a demon working with a werewolf, well, not really working with more like ordering around.”</p><p>“A crossroads demon ordering around a werewolf?” Dean’s voice interrupted. “Ambitious bastards.” </p><p>“It wasn’t a crossroads demon.” A silence followed what she said.</p><p>“I’m sorry, what?” Dean broke the silence.</p><p>“It wasn’t a crossroads demon,” she repeated, adjusting herself in her seat and resting her elbow on the door. “It was a white-eyed demon.” </p><p>“A white-eyed demon!” Both brothers screamed, making the brunette move the phone away from her ear and squeezing her eyes shut. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s what I just said.” </p><p>“The hell is a white-eyed demon doing at a crossroads?” Sam questioned, Betty thought back to what Eligos had said when he had shown up.</p><p>“He was looking for someone,” she thought out loud. “Trying to lure them here with a case.” She snapped her fingers, remembering Eligos’ short mention of Winnie’s story. “Your father. He was looking for your father.”</p><p>“Great,” Dean began with a huff. “Just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse.” </p><p>“Uh, did the demon say anything to you, Betty?” Sam asked, Betty, straightened in her seat. Her mouth slightly opened before closing, and she swallowed, looking to the silver earring in her hand.</p><p>“Nothing.” She cleared her throat, starting her car and throwing the earring out of her open window. “Absolutely nothing.”</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Depths of Friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dean, I’m gonna need you to act professional.” Sam began, closing the Impala’s door and running a hand through his hair. Dean shot him a look, nose scrunched at the accusation. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” He scoffed, pulling his suit jacket to adjust it. “I’m always professional.” Sam rolled his eyes, the two beginning to walk toward the crime scene. They had been in Billings, Montana for the past three days, investigating strange drownings at lake Elmo that have been plaguing the town for nearly a week. “Does that car look familiar to you?” Dean suddenly asked, pointing a finger at a car parked just a ways away from the Impala. Sam looked in the direction he was pointing, shrugging when he couldn’t recognize it.</p><p>“It kind of looks like the Impala.” At that Dean clicked his tongue. “What can I tell you, Dean? There’s probably hundreds, if not thousands, of Impalas out there.”</p><p>“Baby’s unique to me.” The older brother grumbled back as they neared the scene. </p><p>“Hold up there, suits.” A uniformed officer began, stopping them at the crime scene tape. Dean grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the officer.</p><p>“The hell, Dewey?” Dean questioned, Sam subtly elbowed his older brother, clearing his throat. </p><p>“Sorry, Mick,” the officer began, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “Lieutenant Mills isn’t in a good mood since your other agent got here.” The brothers blinked, looking at each other with furrowed brows. Sam turned back to Dewey.</p><p>“I’m sorry, other agent?” He asked, head slightly tilting. Dewey gave a few quick, short nods, his blonde hair bouncing under the police cap. </p><p>“Yeah, agent Rivera.” He jabbed his thumb toward the edge of the lake, but Sam couldn’t see past the ambulance and firetruck. “Kind of strange that the bureau would send down an agent afraid of water for a serial drowning case.” He chuckled, Dean’s eyebrows quirked at this before he shook his head.</p><p>“Just- can you let us in?” Dean asked, motioning for the officer to raise the tape. Dewey bit the inside of his cheek, looking at the ground. He gave a sideways nod, lifting the tape and motioning for them to enter.</p><p>“Don’t let Mills see you. If she does, tell her Hanson let you in.” They nodded, entering the scene.</p><p>“Agent afraid of water?” Dean questioned out loud, Sam shrugged in response, shoving his hands into his pockets. He squinted his eyes, attempting to spot the agent. </p><p>“Rivera,” they turned in the direction of the voice, spotting a suited woman with dark brown hair in a ponytail hesitating to step onto the dock. Lieutenant Mills stood on the dock, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised at the brunette along with an impatient look on her face. “Just get on the dock.” </p><p>“You know, it’s a lot easier said than done.” The agent shot back in a familiar voice, hesitantly setting a foot onto the damp and rotting wood before quickly spinning away. “I can’t do it!” She shouted, hands shaking from anxiety. “What if it breaks? I’m not a good swimmer, I’ll drown!” Mills rolled her eyes, bringing a hand to her nose bridge and pinching it.</p><p>“God, you’re a wimp, kid.”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>“Fine,” Mills began, putting a hand up to stop the other woman’s protest. “You don’t have to come up onto the dock, but at least tell me you can read your father’s weird shorthand.” A fleeting moment of silence fell on the two women, the brunette’s head moving about slowly in thought.</p><p>“I’m not exactly fluent,” Mills groaned. “But I can understand most of it!” Dean let out a chuckle, softly elbowing Sam to follow him. </p><p>“Let’s go see who this Rivera chick is.” </p><p>“Rivera,” Sam repeated, eyes wandering over the large lake before looking back to his older brother with sudden realization. “Wait, isn’t that-”</p><p>“Betty?” Dean called out before Sam could finish. Looking forward, Sam could see that the brunette had already spotted them, prompting her jaw to hang slightly open and her eyes to widen. The ends of her mouth began to curl up as she stepped away from the dock toward them, brown eyes brimming with delight.</p><p>“Sam! Dean!” She chipperly said their names, stopping in front of them. “Man, am I glad to see the two of you.” Dean waved a hand at her, a smug smirk on his face.</p><p>“Aw, shucks, Bets. You’ve got me going red.” He replied, shooting her a wink. She blinked at him, glancing around before turning to Sam.</p><p>“Let me guess, you guys are agents Mick and Foster.” Sam nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. “Mills was talking to me about you two earlier.”</p><p>“More like complaining.” The lieutenant called attention to herself, stepping off the dock and walking up to the trio. She crossed her arms, looking from the men to the woman. “So, you two are hunters?” Mills asked, eyes narrowing at the two brothers. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed at her, and Sam glanced at Betty with confusion.</p><p>“Yeah, been hunting for our whole lives,” Sam told her, bringing a hand up to scratch the side of his nose. </p><p>“What guild are you two from?” Sam blinked at the woman, eyebrows crinkling in confusion. He looked to Betty, who had the same puzzled look on her face. Dean cleared his throat, giving Mills a look of suspicion.</p><p>“What?” He finally asked. It was Mills’s turn to be confused.</p><p>“Hunters guilds.” She clarified, frowning when the three gave her the same confused looks. “Your father, Joshua, he was part of a guild. I figured you were too.” Betty stared at her before looking away and shaking her head slightly.</p><p>“Yet another thing to add to my endless list of questions.” The brunette mumbled. Taking a deep breath, she looked back to the three and gave them a smile that the brothers could tell was forced.</p><p>“Anyway,” Mills began, attempting to change the subject. “The body’s down at the station, so are the files your father worked on, officer Justin will give them to you.” Betty gave her a short nod, her smile returning to a neutral expression. “I’ve still got a few things to sort out here, I’ll let you know if any of my contacts see any sign of your father.” Mills ruffled the brunette's hair with force, messing up the sleek ponytail it was in. “See ya, kid.” Betty slapped her hand away, fixing her hair as quickly as possible. Mills gave a short chuckle, nodding to the brothers before leaving.</p><p>“Alright,” The brunette started, hair back in place and mood beginning to perk up again. “Shall we?”</p><p>Betty stretched gloves over her hands flicking her wrist slightly, she grabbed the top ends of a white sheet that covered the body. Her brown eyes looked to the brothers, wordlessly asking them if they were ready to see the body. Dean stared down at the sheet, Sam made eye contact with her and nodded. The woman raised the sheet and folded it just at the body’s collar bone.</p><p>The victim was just a young boy. His name was Ethan Wilkerson, and he was only seven years old. His parents had reported him missing the night before, having found the window to his room opened and a wet handprint on the sill. Looking at him, Betty became lost in thought.</p><p>Fingers snapping in her face made Betty blink back into reality. Dean continued to snap his fingers in front of her face, giving Sam an entertained smile. The brunette slowly turned to the blond man, her eyes narrow and annoyed. Sam’s eyebrows quirked up at her expression, causing Dean to turn back and look at the woman. His smirk fell and his fingers stopped, he cleared his throat and withdrew his hand from her face. </p><p>“So, they found the kid drowned, right?” Betty nodded, looking back to the boy. “Bets,” she hummed, not turning to look at him again. “Can you show us his ankle?” She looked to him, head tilting slightly in confusion.</p><p>“Uh, every victim has had this mark burned into their legs,” Sam explained, motioning with a hand to where the boy’s ankles would rest. The brunette seemed to tense at that, her mouth in a straight line and her eyes widening slightly. She quickly shook off the look and walked around the morgue table. Grabbing the ends of the white sheet, she couldn’t help but hesitate, a hesitation that Dean caught. She lifted the sheet, holding it just above the boy's ankle. And there was the mark. A handprint, the size of an adult’s, was wrapped around Ethan’s pale ankle and burned into it like frostbite. </p><p>“Man, what is this thing?” Dean mumbled to himself. Sam looked at the mark before glancing up at Betty’s face, she was listlessly staring at the handprint and her breathing was slightly shallow and a bit rapid. </p><p>“Betty?” Her eyes shot to him, and she cleared her throat, letting the sheet fall back over Ethan’s feet. “Have any idea as to what it is?” The brunette made her way back to the other side of the morgue table, and grabbed onto the sheet, and covered the young boy’s face. Sighing, she chewed her bottom lip.</p><p>“I think I have an idea, but I’d have to check my dad’s notes and his lorebook.” She began, taking the latex gloves off her hands. “Which reminds me,” turning, she dumped the gloves into the bin and made her way out the morgue doors. Sam and Dean blinked, looking at each other before quickly taking off to follow her. “Hey, Justin,” both men stopped at the opened morgue doors, seeing the brunette stop at the desk of a young officer. Justin straightened up, flusteredly fixing his uniform and standing. “Do you have the files I need?” </p><p>“Oh, yeah, th-they’re right here.” He turned to his desk, grabbing a stack of files and presenting them to the woman. She shot him a smile and took the files from him. “Uh, agent Rivera,” she met his eyes, allowing him to continue. “Um, I wanted to ask if you would like to go for coffee together? Wh-when you’re done with the case, of course.” Dean’s eyebrows quirked up, and Sam’s did as well. The two looked to Betty, waiting for her response. Betty blinked at Justin.</p><p>“I’d like to,” Sam felt his head tilt, slight confusion hitting him at her acceptance. Dean put a hand up, seemingly knowing where the situation was going. “But I can’t.” Justin deflated slightly and drew into himself slightly. Sam could see Justin’s ears going red and his face becoming flushed.</p><p>“Sorry, it was dumb of me to ask, I mean, we barely know each other!” He began to ramble. Dean snickered slightly, and Sam elbowed his ribs making his snickers turn to coughs. Betty and Justin turned to them, the brunette sending them a slight glare of warning. Dean cleared his throat, motioning for Sam to follow him.</p><p>“We’ll wait for you outside, Bets.” Dean pushed the station’s door open and walked through, keeping his hand on it until Sam placed his on it. The younger Winchester stopped slightly, turning to look back into the station. Through the slowly closing glass door, he could see Betty’s back as she spoke to the officer. Whatever she said must’ve been good because Justin smiled at her brightly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Can’t believe she’s afraid of water.” Sam’s eyes snapped to his brother, who stood leaned against the hood of the Impala.</p><p>“What?” He questioned, Dean gave him a look as he crossed his arms.</p><p>“Betty,” he motioned to the closed station door, and Sam walked to stand beside him. “Dewey said she’s afraid of water, and you saw how she couldn’t get on the dock at the lake.” A cool March breeze passed over them, the afternoon sun melting away the remaining snow from winter. Sam nodded, shoving his hands into his suit jacket pocket.</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” Dean seemed unsatisfied by his reaction, giving him a bored look.</p><p>“Isn’t that crazy?” He asked, Sam looked at him and just shrugged slightly. “Come on, Sam. The girl’s a solo hunter who runs headfirst into danger, hangs up on you all the time, and barely asks for help.” Sam blinked at him, waiting for Dean to get to the point. “I’m just saying it’s surprising, thought we knew her better at this point.” The older brother crossed his arms, looking back to the station. Sam sighed, leaning against the hood alongside Dean. He angled his head, making out Betty and Justin through the glass door. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at the uneven sidewalk. </p><p>“Yeah, so did I.” </p><p>Dean jumped in his motel bed at the sound of a heavy book slamming onto a table, he raised his eyes from the magazine he was reading. He could see Betty cringing at the sound, her father’s lorebook sat on the small table in the room with files beside it. She met his eyes and gave him a strained smile.</p><p>“Sorry about that.” She apologized. Dean chuckled slightly, waving it off and returning to his magazine. Betty took a seat at the table, opening the files and examining her father’s notes. She mentally cursed, seeing the familiar scribble of her dad’s shorthand. Chewing on her lips, she attempted to remember what each word meant. It had been years since she learned to read it, and she hadn’t gotten any practice at it, having lived a normal life up until this point. Her left hand reached up to her ear before freezing, instead, she ran it through her hair, slightly tugging at it. She glanced at the lorebook, she already knew what monster would be the most likely culprit, but… She turned back to the files, frustratingly looking through them again.</p><p>“Food’s here!” Both looked to the door, Sam walking through it, holding up two bags of Chinese food. He jumped slightly, seeing Betty in the room. “Oh, hey, Betty. Was the connected room free?” She nodded, pointing her pen to the opened connecting door. Dean jumped up from the bed, throwing the magazine aside.</p><p>“Alright!” He cheered, taking one of the bags from his brother’s hand and looking into it. From the corner of his eye, he could see Betty begin to collect her things and make her way to the connecting door. “Where are you going?” He asked her, she stopped, looking at him with slightly wide eyes. </p><p>“Uh, to my room.” She answered voice confused. Dean shook his head at her, taking a seat at the table and motioning to the chair she was sitting on. </p><p>“Stay, we got some food for you too.” Sam nodded, sitting in the other free chair. The brunette put her hand up, waving their offer off.</p><p>"No, I'm fine guys. Thank you." She rejected them, voice soft. Betty hadn't shared a meal with a person in a long time, the last person being her father on her seventeenth birthday. As optimistic as it sounded, she wanted to share her first meal as a hunter with him. Dean frowned at her.</p><p>"Uh, no. You're gonna-" Sam put a hand up to cut him off, staring at the brunette. Betty's eyes were cloudy with tears, but she was smiling bittersweetly. She looked just as she did in his vision, the only thing missing was the short hair.</p><p>"It's alright, Betty." He reassured her, Dean gave him a look. "Get some sleep." The brunette nodded, continuing to the connecting door.</p><p>“I’ll see you guys in the morning.” She said, grabbing the doorknob and smiling at them. Dean huffed, waving his hand at her. Sam smiled back with a slight nod.</p><p>"Yeah, goodnight."</p><p>The brunette placed the files and the lorebook onto the desk beside her motel bed. Shuffling the papers, she took a deep breath. Slowly, she opened her father's lorebook, leafing through the pages until she got to the one she was looking for.</p><p>Kelpies. Creatures that live in large bodies of water. Usually, they take the form of horses to lead children into their trap, but occasionally take on other forms to lure them. Terrifying creatures that stop at nothing to collect their food. Brown eyes caught scribbles at the top left corner of the first page, two dates; 1978 and 1991. 1978 was about the case her father had worked on when he was twenty-two. And 1991, she slammed the book closed, feeling short of breath.</p><p>Rubbing her forehead, she calmed herself down. She took a deep breath, standing and walking to the edge of her bed. She let herself fall face forward onto it, kicking her boots off and rolling herself up in the bed's comforter. Facing the ceiling, she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.</p><p>
  <em>Betty felt like she was floating. Suspended in the air, comfortably sleeping. But something was wrong. It was hard to breathe.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Opening her eyes, the brunette was met with the bottomless depths of a lake. She screamed, air bubbles coming out of her mouth causing her to slap a hand over her mouth. A feeling of panic filled her and she began to swim upwards.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She was about to reach the surface when a hand grabbed onto her ankle. The hand pulled her down, dragging her deeper into the depths. She kicked, lungs filling with water as she attempted to scream. Her head became light and her eyelids felt heavy, and she was certain she was going to die. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Above her, a hand reached down, grabbing her wrist and pulling her up into a bright light. And- </em>
</p><p>“Betty!” Her eyes opened and she shot up, head throbbing and vision hazy. Blinking, she looked to a blurred figure who placed a hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“Papa?” Her voice was hoarse and raspy. The figure replied with a throaty laugh.</p><p>“Am I starting to look old or something?” She furrowed her brows, bringing a hand up and rubbing her eyes. Looking back to the figure, she sighed at the sight of Dean.</p><p>“Dean.” He nodded, his grip on her shoulder loosening.</p><p>“Having a nightmare?” Betty looked away from him, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging her legs. “Does it have anything to do with the case? Or your fear of water?” Looking back at him, she gave him a look, one that warned against going any further. Dean frowned at her, removing his hand from her shoulder and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come on, Betty. You can tell me.” Her expression softened, and she looked away.</p><p>“In 1991, when I was six, there was this lake I would visit with the other kids in my neighborhood.” Dean looked at her intently, attempting to communicate that he was really listening to her. But she wasn’t looking at him. “One day, kids started to go missing and then turning up in the lake drowned. My dad took it upon himself to hunt the thing, meanwhile, he confined me to our house.” She continued, hugging her legs tighter. “But it didn’t matter.” </p><p>“It came for you?” Glancing at him, she bit her lip and sighed. Stretching her legs onto the bed, she shifted to rest against the headboard.</p><p>“Yeah, it did. Took the form of my friend, opened my window, and led me to the lake.” Sighing, she leaned her head further back, looking at the white ceiling. “It tried to drown me. Thankfully, my dad had been on patrol that night and got there in time to save me.” She brought her hands up to her eyes, closing them and groaning slightly. “After that, my dad started to train me and I’ve been afraid of water ever since.” Opening her eyes, she caught him glancing at her legs. "I don't have the burn anymore." He looked back at her. "It healed when my powers manifested. All of my scars healed." </p><p>“What was it?” She closed her eyes again. Swallowing her nerves, she shifted to stand from the bed, avoiding hitting the blond man sitting on the edge.</p><p>“Kelpie.” She told him, shoving her father’s lorebook into her duffle bag and packing her other things. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Dean questioned, still sitting on the bed. The brunette didn’t spare him a glance, opening drawers and pulling things out to shove into her bag.</p><p>“Packing.” The man’s brows furrowed, his head shaking slightly. </p><p>“What? Betty.” He stood, rushing toward her and slamming the top of the duffle bag down, stopping her from packing more of her clothes away. She gave him a look of impatience, glaring at him. “You can’t leave.” He told her, trying to not feel intimidated by her stare. She huffed at him.</p><p>“Dean,” she began, pushing his hand off of her bag and stuffing her things into it. “If I stay I’ll just be a burden. If I freeze up, you and Sam will get hurt.” Dean frowned at her response, following her as she went to the drawers on the other side of the bed.</p><p>“You won’t. Betty,” he grabbed her hand, making her turn to look at him. But she avoided his gaze, looking at the floor. “You’re the most badass hunter we know.” She scoffed, shaking her hand out of his grasp.</p><p>“Which makes my fear all the more ridiculous.” Betty groaned, turning back to the drawer. “I’ve fought a shapeshifter in a burning building, gone toe-to-toe with a savage vampire, and exorcised a white-eyed demon.” She stopped, her hands holding the ends of the drawer and supporting her. “So why is it that I’m so afraid of something I know I can handle!” Straightening up, she slammed the drawer closed and attempted to push past Dean. He grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. </p><p>“Everyone’s afraid, Betty!” He shouted at her, Betty was surprised that he had raised his voice at her. She stared at him with wide eyes, blinking at him. Dean sighed, letting go of her shoulders and sitting back down on the bed. “We’re all afraid of something. But,” he began, putting a finger up and shaking it at her. “We don’t let that stop us from helping people.” The brunette’s lip twitched, and taking a deep breath, she sat beside him.</p><p>“How?” He quirked his brow at her, lowering his hand. “How do I, uh, get over it?” Dean chortled, looking at her as if she were a toddler learning how to walk. </p><p>“No one gets over it, Bets.” He began, the brunette furrowed her brows at him. “We just push through it.” Betty narrowed her eyes at him, looking away from him.</p><p>“Then how do you push through it?” Dean leaned back on his hands, contemplating what his next words would be. </p><p>“I just don’t think about it.” He said with a shrug as if it were the most obvious thing. The brunette scowled at him slightly, disbelief written all over her face.</p><p>“What?” Dean chewed his lip trying to come up with an explanation.</p><p>“Listen,” he began, shifting to face her. “When you’re in a dangerous situation what do you do?” Betty’s head moved back a bit, confused as to what he was getting at. Dean motioned for her to give him an answer.</p><p>“Well, I usually stop for a second and assess the situation.”</p><p>“Don’t do that.” She blinked at him, looking at him like he had grown a second head. </p><p>“What.” Dean put his hands up.</p><p>“I know it sounds weird-”</p><p>“It sounds stupid.” He glared at her, albeit playfully just as she shook her head jokingly.</p><p>“Hear me out,” she gave him a defeated smile, shifting to face him and motioning for him to continue. “You can’t give your brain time to think, because if you think you’ll remember that you’re afraid. Trust your instincts, I know yours are good, Betty.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a few comforting rubs. She smiled at him before it fell, she got up from the bed and moved to her duffle bag. Dean sighed. “So, you’re still gonna-”</p><p>“Kelpies hibernate.” She cut him off, turning with the lorebook open and pointing to a page. “They sleep for fifteen years and then hunt for a week, eating the souls of their victims, before going back into hiding.” Dean shot up, grabbing the lorebook and flipping it around to read it.</p><p>“A week?” He met her eyes as she nodded. “The drownings started six days ago, that means we only have two hours before it goes back under.” The two looked to the clock, reading 11:00 pm. Betty turned back to him first.</p><p>“Wake Sam up, we’re taking my car.”</p><p>The Malibu screeched to a halt, kicking up dirt with its tires from the path leading to the lake. The doors opened, Betty exiting the driver’s side, Dean from the passenger side, and Sam from the backseat. The brothers followed the brunette as she walked around to the trunk. Popping the trunk open, she looked around for suitable weapons.</p><p>“Alright, guys,” she began, reaching into the false bottom and pulling out a crossbow. Dean’s eyes widened at the weapon, excitement filling him. Sam rubbed his eyes, still tired from being awakened twenty minutes ago. “Due to a demon incident, I'm short on guns. So, these crossbows are gonna have to do.” She handed the crossbow to Dean, reaching for another identical one and offering it to Sam. “You only have one shot though, so be resourceful.” Sam looked at the weapon, glancing at Dean’s before taking it from the brunette.</p><p>“Do you have two of every weapon?” He asked, Betty nodded, pulling a shotgun from the trunk before slamming it shut.</p><p>“Yeah, my dad wanted me to be his hunting partner. So, he prepared two of every weapon.” Pumping the shotgun, she began toward the dock. Sam and Dean followed behind her, and she stopped just before the dock. “Okay, you two go on the dock and draw it out. I’ll stay here in case it comes back from hunting, or tries to escape.” Dean gave her a look that she ignored. </p><p>“Come on, Dean,” Sam said, softly elbowing his brother. Dean sighed at the brunette, turning and following Sam onto the dock. He wasn’t going to lie, the dock was rotting, threatening to break under their every move, and it kind of scared him. The water was dark and murky, too dirty to even see his reflection. His pointer finger fiddled with the crossbow’s string, the arrows feather tickling his sense of touch. </p><p>Betty kept her shotgun close, keeping her eyes toward the treeline. Seeing nothing, she looked to her boots, inspecting her soles before turning to the lake. She was standing on the sand, just at the edge of the water, the waves almost touching her shoes. The lake was large, the brunette unable to see the other side. Taking a deep breath, she began to walk to the dock, seeing the brothers on it.</p><p>Sam stared out into the lake, on the opposite side of the dock as Dean, surveying every section and searching for any sign of movement. He mimicked his brother, fiddling with the crossbow string. Bringing his wrist up, he looked at his watch. It was nearing midnight, only a few minutes to go. </p><p>“Sam,” he looked to the land, seeing Betty standing at the start of the dock. She was holding out her left hand to him while the right grabbed the shotgun by the grip, he stared at her slightly confused until she shook her hand at him. Lowering the crossbow, he walked the short distance toward her and grabbed her left hand with his right. Her eyes looked down to the dock, cautiously stepping onto it. “Alright.” She sighed in relief, steadying herself. He smiled at her, moving to let her hand go but her grip strengthened. “Don’t let me go.” He blinked at her demanding tone.</p><p>“Okay.” Betty’s hand was clammy, shaking slightly in his grasp. “Come on.” He began to lead her further onto the dock, she kept her eyes on the damp wood, taking slow and hesitant steps.</p><p>“Aw, baby’s first steps.” Dean chuckled, both Betty and Sam turned to him with glares.</p><p>“Shut up, Dean.” Sam shot at him quickly. Betty glanced at his hand, it was cool and refreshing against hers, it was calming. A strong, cold wind caused droplets of water to hit the trio on the dock. Betty’s eyes closed and her grip tightened on Sam’s hand, causing him to let out a pained noise. “It’s just the wind, Betty. I’ve got you.” Opening her eyes, she met his. She was so close to him that she could see every detail in his iris, the mix of greens, browns, and blues. The brunette nodded, straightening up and backing away from him slightly.</p><p>“Thank-” Before she could finish thanking him, the water beside them began to splash with movement. Instinctively, the two let go of each other and gripped their weapons. Betty shot twice at the movement, and Sam shot the arrow into it. The sound of something falling into the water behind them made them turn, they found the crossbow that Betty had given Dean laying on the dock.</p><p>“Sam! Betty!” The two sprinted to the edge of the dock, seeing Dean struggle to stay above the surface. </p><p>“Dean!” Just as Dean’s head went under, Sam threw his crossbow to the side and moved to take his flannel shirt off. Struggling to take the over-shirt off, he cursed trying to pull it off. A piece of cloth hit his face, and he moved his arms to catch Betty’s coat. Looking up, he watched the brunette take a running start and dive into the water. </p><p>Betty felt her ears fill up with water, rendering her hearing impaired. Opening her eyes, she could see Dean’s figure sinking further down. He was still fighting against the force dragging him down, kicking, and flailing. The brunette hesitated slightly, but seeing Dean disappear into the dark depths, she pushed herself and began to swim down. Dean came back into view, his green eyes widening at the sight of her. She reached her hand out to him, Dean grabbed it and at that moment the two of them were pulled deeper into the depths. A tentacle, colored blue, wrapped around her ankle and pulled her down past Dean.</p><p>A creature, skin smooth and glossy, eyes large, black and soulless stared at her. It screeched, the water vibrating and the sound somehow piercing through the deafness created by the water. It opened its mouth, revealing rows of teeth as its jaw unhinged. Dean pulled her back up, and she nearly avoided being bitten. In a swift move, the brunette kicked the back of her right boot, a silver blade coming out of the sole. Her kick was slow, but it landed. The kelpie screamed, letting the two go and curling in on itself. Betty and Dean watched as the creature turned into seafoam and floated upward.</p><p>Sam leaned over the side of the dock, searching for any sign of his brother and the brunette in the murky depths. Squinting, he could spot a large form rising quickly. He reached for the shotgun, pumping it and aiming at the shape. Betty broke through the surface with a gasp, Dean draped over her shoulder, coughing up the water in his lungs. Sam lowered the gun, sighing in relief before throwing it away and reaching a hand to help. Betty took his hand, he lifted her onto the dock while she still held onto Dean. The two pulled him onto the dock, laying him on his back as he took steadying breaths.</p><p>“Dude,” Dean began, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Betty’s so damn cool.” Betty let out a breathy chuckle, wiping water from her face. Sam nodded in agreement, glancing at the brunette.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Betty sat on Dean's motel bed, hair still slightly damp but clothes new and fresh. In front of her, Dean lay on the bed, his pant leg above his knee, displaying the freshly burned mark. Sam sat at the small dinner table, shuffling through newspapers in search of their next case. Betty put her hands together, closing her eyes and focusing. </p><p>“Thanks for saving my life.” She opened her eyes in response to Dean’s voice, she smiled at him. Sam looked up from the papers, nodding.</p><p>“Yeah, we owe you one.” Betty let out a curt chuckle, a blue-white glow building up in her palms. </p><p>“We’re even.” She reminded them with a wink. Sam nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before looking back to the papers. Dean shot her a smile, watching her hands separate. </p><p>“So, you overcome your fear of water for me?” Dean asked with a smug smile. Betty let out a loud laugh, placing her hands onto his leg. Sam looked up at the bright light, watching it seep into his brother's leg before disappearing.</p><p>“Hell no, I was internally screaming the whole time.” She admitted, unashamed. Dean smiled at her, proud of her. Her phone vibrated beside her, she picked it up and flipped it open. “Oh, it’s Mills. I’m gonna take this in my room.” With that she stood from the bed and walked through the connecting door, closing it behind her. Sam watched her leave, resting his elbow on the table and placing his chin on his closed fist.</p><p>“Do you think she would come with us?” Dean asked, Sam tensed, turning quickly to look at his older brother. </p><p>“What?” He croaked out. Dean raised an eyebrow at the crack in his voice. Clearing his throat, Sam sat up straight. “I thought you didn’t want a third person? I mean, you always made it seem like you hated the burden of looking out for someone else.” Dean nodded from side to side, stretching his freshly healed leg.</p><p>“My argument still stands,” he began, standing. “But Betty isn’t just ‘someone'. She can pull her own weight, and she knows a lot of lore, maybe more than you.” Sam took offense to that, his face scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. “She’s got those anti-demon powers and, let’s face it, it’s only a matter of time until the demons after dad come for our asses.” The younger brother nodded, letting out a huff and leaning back.</p><p>“It would be nice to have an actual conversation with someone while on the road.” Sam pondered, ignoring the glare Dean sent him. “And she likes us, well, she likes you for sure.” Dean gave him a look. </p><p>“Huh?” Sam scoffed, crossing his arms.</p><p>“Dude, she’s way more comfortable around you than she is around me. And let's not forget that she, quite literally, jumped into her greatest fear to save you.” Dean fought the smile that tugged at the ends of his lips. </p><p>“That’s cause she thinks I’m an idiot. You’re the one she likes the most and respects the most.” Unlike his older brother, Sam didn’t fight the smile, a feeling of warmth and fuzziness erupting from his stomach. “I saw the googoo eyes you two were making at each other on the dock.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Sam shot back, looking back to the papers. Dean giggled, he quickly composed himself when the connecting door opened and Betty walked back in. She stopped beside them, stuffing her phone into the back pocket of her jeans with a dazed look on her face. Dean and Sam glanced at each other, noting her packed duffle bag hanging from her shoulder.</p><p>“Something wrong?” Dean asked. Betty shook her head, adjusting the strap of her bag.</p><p>“No, uh, Mills was just telling me that one of her contacts saw my dad,” she explained. “In Kansas of all places.” Shaking her head, she grabbed her jacket off of the chair across from Sam. “I’ve gotta head down there, my dad moves fast. I probably only have a day or two until he goes off the radar again. I’m sorry, guys.” Dean reached to grab her hand and stop her, but Sam quickly got up and stopped him.</p><p>“No worries, Betty. We understand.” Sam told her, Dean stared at him with furrowed brows before sighing. He waved a hand at the brunette.</p><p>“Yeah, just make sure to call.” Betty gave them a soft smile.</p><p>“You betcha."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Demons on My Tail, Demons Everywhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dean, if you're listening to this, go to Williston, North Dakota. The Colt should be there with a hunter named Liam McKeen. Don’t call this number back.” Sam couldn’t help replaying the message a fifth time. It had been so long since he had heard his dad’s voice, the commanding tone and authority he spoke with was still the same as always. “Dean, if you’re listening-” the phone was ripped out his hand, causing Sam to turn toward Dean.</p><p>“Hey!” He protested. Dean turned the phone off, throwing it to the backseat in frustration. </p><p>“God, that was getting annoying.” Sam frowned at his brother, crossing his arms and leaning into the corner of the seat. Dean glanced at him, rolling his eyes at Sam’s frustration. “Stop pouting, Sam.” He began, lightly pulling Sam’s elbow. Sam ripped his elbow away, turning to the window. A moment of silence. “So, what do you think this Colt thing is?”</p><p>“Hell if I know,” Sam mumbled in response, Dean let out a sigh through his nose.</p><p>“I know what you’re thinking.” Sam furrowed his brows at his own reflection in the window.</p><p>“Last time I checked, you weren’t psychic.” Dean shrugged in response.</p><p>“Could be genetic, we don’t know.” He suggested. Sam nodded his head from side to side, anything could be possible when it came to the origin of his powers. “But don’t change the subject. I know you probably think dad’s sending us on some wild goose chase.”</p><p>“Obviously.” Dean shot him a glare which Sam ignored. Staring out into the dreary March skies, clouded and threatening to rain at any moment. “It’s- It’s like he can sense when we’re close to being happy and normal, and- and he just rips it away from us.” </p><p>“Sam, I know you’re upset-”</p><p>“I’m more than upset.” </p><p>“But family comes first.” Dean finished, volume loud and eyes sending a subtle glare at his younger brother. “Dad needs us.” Sam turned away again, the passenger window fogging up from his breath.</p><p>“He needs you. He didn’t even mention my name.” He refuted, leaning his forehead to touch the cold window. He could hear Dean sigh.</p><p>“Can you blame him?” Dean asked, Sam felt his head straighten up in shock. “I mean, you abandoned us for two years. Dad probably thinks there’s no way I would’ve been able to convince you to come with me.” Sam snapped his head to look at Dean, frustration spelled out in his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. </p><p>“When are you going to stop holding that against me?” Dean didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on the empty road. Sam scoffed, shaking his head and looking forward. “God, I’m so sick of this.” Rubbing his face with his hand, he let out a bitter laugh. “I came back, Dean.”</p><p>“No,” Dean shook his head. “You didn’t come back, Sam.” Sam looked at his older brother, his hand lingering on his chin before falling to his lap. </p><p>“What is that supposed to mean?” He questioned. Dean glanced at him, quickly looking away and avoiding eye contact. Swallowing, Dean’s fingers began to fidget with the steering wheel. </p><p>“You said that the lady in white was the one case you would help me with,” he began, a pained expression flashing on his face. “And that I would be on my own after. You said that you had a life, law school, and Jess.” Dean continued, Sam felt himself scowl. “You didn’t give it up to come back, it was taken from you. You were forced to come back.” </p><p>“Yeah, Dean. It was taken from me, and do you know whose fault it is?” Sam questioned, he felt his face flush in anger. Dean didn’t respond. “Dad’s.” The older brother gripped the steering. “You may not see it, but I do! He’s treated us like soldiers all of our lives. I don’t want to be a soldier, Dean.” He ranted, eyes filling with tears. </p><p>“He’s doing it for us, for mom-”</p><p>“Mom’s dead!” Sam shouted, slamming his hand down onto the dashboard, making Dean flinch. “Dad has put us in danger our whole lives, if mom were alive, she would hate the life he’s given us.” He continued, running an angry hand through his hair. “You’re just so blindly obedient that you refuse to see that.” Sam looked to his brother, who still looked forward, his mouth contorting as he processed his words. Sam sighed. “I don’t know if I can live like this any longer.”</p><p>“Not even for me?” Dean asked, Sam looked away from his brother. He looked at his hands, his mind went to the ring he had bought for Jess. The box that had burned along with the life he had always been longing for. And he knew his answer.</p><p>“No.” The Impala violently jerked to the side, coming to a stop at the shoulder of the dirt road. Dean stepped out of the car, rounding his way to the trunk and pulling out Sam’s duffle bag. Walking to the passenger door, he dropped it onto the ground and opened the door.</p><p>“Then leave.” Sam stared at him with wide eyes. If it had been any other situation leading up to this, he would’ve laughed, but the seriousness and hurt in his brother’s eyes made this no laughing matter. </p><p>“Dean-”</p><p>“No, Sam.” Dean shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat. “You don’t want to say it, so I’ll say it for you.” Sam blinked at his brother in confusion. “You think all of this is my fault.” His heart dropped to his stomach. “And you’re probably right. Hell, I probably led the demon to you, to Jess. It’s my fault.” Dean’s voice quivered a little, but he refused to let it show on his face, forcing his expression to stay neutral. “Leave.” Sam exited the car, looking at his brother with disbelief. But at the same time, he couldn’t refute his brother’s words. There had been a point in time where Sam blamed his brother for what happened, even now he was conflicted on how he felt. He picked up his duffle bag, brushing the dirt off of it, hearing Dean close the passenger door. Watching his brother climb back into the car, Sam felt his apology get stuck in his throat. And Dean drove off. </p><p>Sam’s legs felt weak, having been walking for the past hour. A mile marker mocked him as it proudly stated that he was ten miles away from civilization. Letting out a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and went through his list of contacts. Bobby could probably get to him in a few hours, and no one else was nearby. His eyes landed on Betty’s name.</p><p>Three rings, and a click.</p><p>“Sam?” </p><p>“Uh, hey, Betty.” He greeted, voice sounding foreign to himself. “Just wanted to ask where you are right now. I, um, just- where are you?” </p><p>“I’m passing through Fort Collins right now. Why? Is something wrong?” Sam wanted to tell her that yes, something was wrong. But he had no right to.</p><p>“Nothing, just curious.” He rubbed a hand over his chin, licking his lips and clearing his throat. “Uh, you still headed to Kansas?”</p><p>“Yeah, hopefully, my dad caught a lengthy case, if not I’ll probably have to wait a few weeks until he resurfaces again.” She let out a small chuckle, but Sam could hear the underlying stress. “So, did you need something?” He sighed through his nose, bringing a hand up to pinch its bridge. </p><p>“I just-” he cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut at a cold wind. “Why did you do it?” </p><p>“Why did I do what?”</p><p>“Leave it all behind.” He responded, leaning his head back and opening his eyes to look at the dark grey skies. “You were so close to graduating, to getting everything you wanted.” The volume of his voice raised steadily. “It wasn’t taken from you! So why!?” He caught himself, eyes stinging with tears that he tried to blink away. “Why did you walk away?” The silence was deafening, only Sam’s unsteady breathing being louder than it.</p><p>“Because it’s who I am.” Betty finally spoke. “When my dad went back to hunting, I knew he was right. Hunting is my family’s legacy, it’s my destiny. I can’t escape it, no matter how hard I try.” She let out what sounded like a sigh. “Even in college, when I was miles away from my dad, it was like I attracted the supernatural.” A sad chuckle left her mouth. “I’m not meant to lead a normal life.” Sam frowned.</p><p>“So you’re just going to give up?” He questioned hand curling into a fist. “Because of a few coincidences?” </p><p>“I don’t believe in coincidences, Sam.” Her reply caught him off guard, and his fists unfurled. “Cool off. I’ll call you later.” Before he could protest, she hung up. He pulled his phone away from his ear, staring at the ended call. A drop of water hit his wrist, another hit the back of his neck causing him to look up. Droplets hit his face softly but it became obvious that it would soon be pouring. Sam sighed, closing his eyes and contemplating what he had done to deserve this. The screeching of a car stopping in front of him made his eyes snap open and his head straighten up. </p><p>A red pickup truck stood in front of him, eerily clean and untouched by the rain. The window of the driver’s side lowered, revealing a woman. Her hair was blonde, cut short, and shaggy. Her blue eyes seemed to size Sam up.</p><p>“Hey there, handsome.” She greeted him with a small smirk. “Where ya headed?” Sam opened his mouth, closing it when he realized that he didn’t really have an answer. “I’m headed to the west coast, California.” Sam’s ears perked up, maybe Betty was right. Maybe there were no such things as coincidences, and maybe this was his ticket out of a life he never wanted. </p><p>“So am I.”</p><p>Dean kept his gaze straight. It had taken all of his strength not to turn the Impala around and pick up his younger brother, but he wouldn’t force him to come with him. Sam had made it clear throughout their cases that he didn’t want to be there, that if it hadn’t been for that damn demon he never would have been there. A buzzing in his pocket snapped him out of his thoughts. Contorting his body, he slid his phone out of his back pocket and flipped it open.</p><p>“Yellow?” </p><p>“Hey, Dean. I just had the tensest conversation with Sam. Did something happen?” Dean let out a huff, agitated by the question. He didn’t want to answer, hell, he didn’t even want to think about it anymore.</p><p>“We’re going our separate ways, Bets.” He licked his lips, suddenly becoming aware of how dry they were. </p><p>“Yeah, I thought as much.” She mumbled in return. “Dean, just give him some time, he’ll come around.” Dean groaned at her words, reminding him of Bobby. </p><p>“What if he doesn’t?” He could hear her inhale softly, releasing it in a long sigh.</p><p>“Then,” she trailed off slightly. “You just have to accept that his path is different from yours.” Dean let out a snort.</p><p>“Only you would believe in that destiny shit.” He chuckled lightly, shaking his head and glancing around the houses of a residential road. “God knows I never could.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll believe enough for the two of us.” Dean smiled to himself, the heavy feeling on his shoulders lightened. </p><p>“Thanks, Bets.” He pulled over onto the side of the road, eyeing a dark-colored house that sat further away from the others. </p><p>“No problem, Dean.” His green eyes caught the house’s screen door wide open and the wooden door swinging slightly. There was a splintered hole where the doorknob should’ve been. Dean turned the car off and stepped out, closing the door behind him. </p><p>“I’m gonna have to call you back.”</p><p>Sam stared out of the droplet cover window. It was pouring just as he had predicted, hitting the window so hard that it shook. He looked at the woman driving the car. Clearing his throat, he licked his lips to start a conversation.</p><p>“So, Meg,” she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “What college do you attend?” Meg gave a small smile.</p><p>“Stanford, majoring in medieval studies.” Sam’s eyes brightened and he smiled.</p><p>“I went- go to Stanford too, pre-law.” He said, voice ecstatic while pointing at himself. Meg stifled a chuckle, eyes going back to the road.</p><p>“I had to take a semester off, my sister got really sick. But she got better, so I’m heading back.” She glanced at him again. “What about you?” Sam swallowed nervously.</p><p>“Uh, I took the semester off to go on a road trip with my brother.” Meg gave him a look, on the edge of doubting him and judging him. “It was after my girlfriend died. I, uh, took it pretty hard. Lost myself for a while.” Her features softened.</p><p>“And now you’ve found yourself again?” She questioned, looking back to the road. Sam nodded slightly, turning to look back out of the window. “What about your brother?” He froze, sighing.</p><p>“He doesn’t need me, I'm just dead weight.” He answered, letting himself fall back in his seat. The dreary sky made him tired, along with the scent of chrysanthemums. Shaking his head, he tried to wake himself up, blinking relentlessly. A soft hum filled his ears.</p><p>“You seem tired.” He looked to Meg, her blue eyes mesmerizing him. Her face reminded him of Jessica, the upward nose with light freckles dusting it, the small smile on her lips that reminded him of her laugh, and the way her eyes would crinkle when she smirked. “You should get some rest.” Sam’s heavy lids fell closed and he felt his head hit the seat. </p><p>Dean stared at the scene before him. Liam Mckeen, one of his father’s old hunting buddies, lay dead on the floor of his study. It wasn’t a pretty sight, the man had been eviscerated. Blood was splattered across the papers of his desk as well as the walls of the room. Dean carefully stepped over puddles of dried blood, reaching the desk and searching among the papers. One caught his eyes.</p><p>The old, crumpled paper had what looked like plans for a gun. Dean whistled, impressed by the specifics and design. He squinted his eyes to read the cursive handwriting in the corner.</p><p>“The Colt.” He read out loud to himself. He let out an airy chuckle, tilting his head. “It’s a gun.” Putting the old paper down, he continued to walk around the study. His eyes caught a rug hastily thrown on the floor. Grabbing onto it, he kicked it to the side and examined the floorboards underneath it. Lightly, he stepped his foot onto each plank, putting pressure onto it. One squeaked slightly and Dean crouched down to lift it.</p><p>Under the floorboard, he found a small gun case with a strange crest on it. He lifted the case out of the floor, laying it beside him. Clicking it open, he found thirteen bullets, lined up neatly with the same crest engraved into them. Dean looked to where the gun should have been, but its space was empty. His eyebrows furrowed. Who takes the gun, but not the ammo? </p><p>Rising to his feet, Dean moved to leave, but he hesitated. He glanced back to the bullets, jumping a little on his feet like an impatient child. Clicking his tongue, he crouched and pocketed the bullets. He held onto one, examining it. A ringing from his pocket made him jump and he scurried to answer it. It was an unknown number. </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Dean.” His eyes widened in recognition of the voice.</p><p>“Dad?”</p><p>
  <em> Sam opened his eyes. He was standing in an abandoned warehouse, dusted shelves were set up like a maze, and a massive spider hanging in front of him. He jumped back, swatting at it only for his hand to go through it. Swatting at it again, he sighed, realizing he was having another vision. Walking forward, he stepped through one of the shelves and looked around. </em>
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  <em> Sunlight shone through the broken windows, but Sam didn’t cast a shadow. He spotted a figure in front of him, their back was turned to him but he recognized the scruffy black hair and the ripped bomber jacket. It was his dad. </em>
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  <em> John Winchester paced, something Sam had never seen him do that. Now that he thought about it, the air around his dad was off. John was cursing under his breath, his hands fidgeted with something, and his brown eyes glanced into the shadows as if expecting someone.  </em>
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  <em> “Dad!” Both Sam and John turned to the entrance of the warehouse, Dean stepped into the building, dust kicking up behind him. “Dad.” He repeated, a relieved smile on his face, it had been the same one he gave Sam when he agreed to work a case with him. John placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, returning the smile, an unfamiliar sight to both boys. Sam could tell that Dean was unnerved, his smile faltering slightly. </em>
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  <em> “Dean, I’ve got the Colt.” He began, lifting his other hand and revealing the revolver that the blond man squinted at. His hand fell off of Dean’s shoulder and he motioned for him to follow, leading him out of the warehouse. “Did you get the bullets?” Dean watched his father’s figure walk past him, he opened his mouth but closed it. </em>
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  <em> “No.” An anxious feeling rose in Sam’s stomach. John turned to look at Dean, the younger man clenched his jaw and Sam flinched, knowing what would come next. To his surprise, John simply gave Dean a disappointed look. </em>
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  <em> “That’s alright, we’ll go get them together.” Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise, maybe his father had changed, had grown more appreciative of his sons. John turned to walk away, stopping when he noticed that Dean wasn’t following him. “What’s wrong, Dean?” He asked, turning to look at him. Dean narrowed his eyes, Sam noted his right hand reaching to the back of his belt. </em>
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  <em> “Who the hell are you?” He questioned, a hand quickly pulling the handgun and pointing it at their father. Sam’s eyes grew wide and he reached out to push Dean’s hands down, but his hand went through him, reminding him that he wasn’t really there. </em>
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  <em> “Dean,” John began, his voice coated in slight disappointment as he neared his son. When he got a little too close, Dean pushed the gun forward causing John to stop just a few feet in front of him. Sam looked between the two in confusion, feeling his breathing become shallow. He watched his father smile at Dean, eerie and hollow. “You should’ve just played along.” With that, John- the shapeshifter- grabbed Dean’s hands, causing him to shoot, the bullet going through Sam. The shifter pushed Dean into a shelf as the two struggled for the gun. </em>
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  <em> “Dean!” Sam yelled out, he tried to pull the shifter off his brother, but his hands went through him. He couldn’t do anything but watch helplessly as the shifter slammed the gun out of Dean’s hand by slamming his wrist into the metal shelf. His older brother fought back, clawing at the shifter’s face. Sam watched as Dean’s face went from struggling to surprised, the sound of flesh tearing echoed through the warehouse. The shifter’s bloody hand pulled itself out of Dean’s stomach, letting him fall to the floor as the color drained from his face. </em>
</p><p>“Dean!” Sam shouted, sitting upright and breathing rapidly. Looking around, he was still in the red truck. It was parked at a gas station, Meg stared at him through the opened driver’s side window of the truck. She was currently fueling up the car in a lonely Minnesota gas station and looking at him as if he had grown a second head.</p><p>“You okay there?” She asked, one eyebrow raised in question. Sam stared at her, looking away in thought. Swallowing, he grabbed his bag and kicked the passenger door open. He stepped out of the truck, slamming the door behind him and looking around for a car. Meg rounded the truck to follow him. “Sam! Where are you going!?” She called out as he walked toward a line of parked cars.</p><p>“I have to go find my brother.” He told her, tugging on the door handle of a blue sedan but finding it locked. Grabbing onto the handle of a black mustang, it opened and he got in. Meg knocked on the window, her expression slightly angry.</p><p>“What about California?” She shouted slightly, but it was still muffled by the window. Sam pulled a screwdriver out of his duffle bag and began to unscrew the cover of the steering column.</p><p>“California’s not going anywhere,” he began, yanking the cover off and grabbing two wires and snipping them with wire cutters he got from his bag. He lightly touched the wires to each other, multiple times until the engine turned. “My brother needs me.” Putting the car in reverse, he backed out of the parking space. Meg jumped back and watched him leave with an angry look on her face.</p><p>Dean stopped the Impala in front of the isolated warehouse, putting it in park, he stared at it. It was eerie, to say the least, broken windows, cobwebs, and a slightly opened entrance. He stared at it for a little bit, shrugging when he couldn’t find a reason not to go in. Exiting his car, he made his way to the opening. He stopped short of entering when he heard a car speeding down the abandoned dirt road, turning he found a black mustang barreling toward him.</p><p>“Holy shit!” He shouted, stepping back. The car swerved, spraying him with dirt as the driver slammed on the brakes. “What the fu-”</p><p>“Dean!” He watched his younger brother practically jump out of the car. “Don’t go in there,” Sam told him, grabbing his shoulders. “The- the thing in there isn’t dad.” Dean furrowed his brows at him, shrugging his hands off.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” </p><p>“I had a vision,” Sam began, taking in deep breaths. “It’s not dad, it’s a shifter.” Dean’s eyes widened, searching his brother’s face. “It’s got the Colt and was trying to get the bullets from you.” His breathing steadied. “It killed you because you realized it wasn’t dad.” </p><p>“Geez,” both brothers snapped in the direction of the new voice. The dark silhouette of a man stood at the entrance of the warehouse, stepping into the moonlight, their father’s face looked at them. “Didn’t even get to show off my acting chops.” A sly smirk spread across the shifter’s face. Dean pulled the gun out from his waistband, pointing it at the shifter. Sam pulled a switchblade from his pocket.</p><p>“Two against one,” Dean said, brows jumping up in slight amusement. “Hardly seems fair. Don’t you think, Sam?” He asked, looking at his younger brother. Sam let out an airy chuckle, nodding.</p><p>“Good thing I’m not here alone.” Stepping aside, a shorter figure appeared behind him. As the figure stepped into the light, Sam felt his breath hitch in his throat. </p><p>“Hello, Sammy.” Meg greeted him, her eyes flashing black for a split second. Dean’s brows furrowed, looking from the woman to her brother.</p><p>“You know this demon, Sam?” He asked.</p><p>“She picked me up on the road, I was going back to California with her.” Dean looked offended.</p><p>“The hell!?” Sam looked at Dean, confused at his outburst. “So you were just gonna go back to Stanford? Just gonna leave me?” </p><p>“Uh, Dean, I’m not sure if this is the best time to talk about that.” He responded, Meg cleared her throat, calling attention back to herself and the shifter.</p><p>“Sam’s got a point,” she began, looking to Dean and holding her hand out. “Give me the bullets, Dean. I know you have them.” Dean gave her a half-smile, tilting the gun to the side slightly.</p><p>“Now, why would I do that?” Meg scowled at him, motioning to the shifter. The creature raised the weapon in his hand, showing it off proudly.</p><p>“We have the Colt, but the bullets are just as dangerous.” Sam narrowed his eyes at her.</p><p>“Why is that?” The blonde woman gave him a look, mentally asking if he was stupid.</p><p>“We don’t need hunters figuring out how to make more or creating a gun that can fire them.” Dean stared at the gun in the shifter’s hand before letting out a laugh.</p><p>“That’s not the Colt.” Meg snapped her head to him.</p><p>“What did you say?” Dean smirked at her.</p><p>“The bullets all have a crest on them, a crest that that gun doesn’t have.” Meg ripped the gun out of the shifter’s hand, examining it with fury building up in her eyes. After confirming it, Meg glared at the shifter who gulped. She threw the gun at him.</p><p>“You idiot!” She shouted, eyes turning black again. Sam and Dean glanced at each other, mentally debating on what to do. Sam looked at Dean’s gun, to the shifter, and then back to his brother again. Dean gave a nod.</p><p>“I-I didn’t-” The shifter yelped, falling to the side as a bullet hit his abdomen. Meg turned back to the brothers, dodging a bullet that Dean shot at her. Behind her the shifter rose, the bullet falling to the ground and his wound healed.</p><p>“Grab the blond one,” Meg ordered. The shifter ran toward Dean, who shot at him. The bullets did nothing to stop him. The shifter grabbed his wrist, twisting it and causing him to drop the gun. Sam moved to stab the shifter with his switchblade, only for Meg to appear in front of him, the blade plunging her torso. “Don’t make a move you'll regret, Sam.” She began, grabbing his hair and pushing him off. Sam landed in the mud, trying to get up.</p><p>“Exorcizamus te,” he began, rising to his feet. Meg’s body twitched, her eyes flickering to black. “Omnis immundus spiritus,” black mist seeped out of her mouth, her hand grabbing onto the handle of the switchblade in her chest, causing Sam to stop.</p><p>“Exorcise me, and pretty little Meg,” she pointed to herself, or rather her body. “Dies.” Sam bit his tongue, looking at Dean. His brother looked back at him, the shifter holding his hands pinned against his back. Sam felt trapped, there was no way out of this, but that feeling of hopelessness disappeared when Dean smiled smugly. Sam watched his older brother kick the back of his boot, a silver blade popping out from the front of his sole. Dean kicked at the shifter’s legs, causing it to screech in pain and let him go. Swinging his leg, he slashed across the shifter’s chest, its wound festered and it screamed as it fell to the floor. Meg turned to the noise, shock was written out in her features. Sam tackled her, pushing her down to the ground.</p><p>“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” Sam began, Meg writhing beneath him. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,” black mist seeped from out of her mouth, along with blood. “Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica,” he stopped hearing Meg laugh.</p><p>“You think I’m the only one following you and your father?” She asked, smiling with blood-stained teeth. “We’re everywhere Sam, even in Fort Collins.” Sam felt breathless, Meg stared back at him with wild eyes. “That’s right, she isn’t safe either.” She chuckled. “Just like Jessica.”</p><p>“Ergo draco maledicte,” Dean picked up on where Sam had left off, Meg struggling. “Ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire,” he looked at Sam, still frozen with worry. “Te rogamus, audi nos.” The last of the black mist left the blonde woman, leaving behind the real Meg. She looked at them, her eyes fading fast. She tried to speak.</p><p>“They-” she choked on her blood. “They- Azazel.” Sam snapped out of his fog, grabbing Meg’s hand in a comforting way.</p><p>“Blink once for yes, two for no.” He told her, she blinked. “Is Azazel their leader?” She blinked.</p><p>“Is he a black-eyed demon?” Dean asked, she blinked twice. “Yellow-eyed?” She blinked, coughing up more blood. “Do you know what they want with Sam?” She blinked. “What is it?” Meg looked from him to Sam, weakly pointing a finger at him.</p><p>“Lucifer-” she began. “Wants-” her eyes went dull and her hand fell limp. Dean put a hand on her shoulder, slightly shaking her. He looked at Sam, both feel that they are just as lost as before.</p><p>It had been difficult to find dry wood for the pyre after such heavy rain, but they had managed. Now they stood rested against the Impala, watching it burn. Sam glanced at his brother, swallowing before clearing his throat.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he began. “For leaving you and dad.” He finished, looking back to the pyre. “It wasn’t your fault, none of it was. You were just trying to look out for me.” He sighed, stuffing his muddy hands into his pocket. “I should start doing the same for you.” Dean looked at him, Sam looking back at him again. </p><p>“Family first?” He asked. Sam let out a chuckle, nodding.</p><p>“Family first.” Dean smiled, turning to look back at the pyre. Sam turned as well. “When did you put the blade in your boot?”</p><p>“A few days ago, Betty taught me how to do it.” They stood in silence before turning to look at each other in realization.</p><p>”Betty!”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Family Mathers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Betty tapped her foot along to the beat of a song in her head, humming quietly. She stood in an empty Lawrence, Kansas police station, looking over crime scene files. Four murders in the past month, starting a few weeks before Mills’s contact had spotted her father. All women in their twenties with similar features, dark hair, and brown eyes. So far that was all Betty could go on, their looks. That and the fact that all of them had eaten at the Mathers Diner shortly before their deaths. Mathers, that sounded familiar.</p><p>“Oh, you’re still here.” Brown met cerulean as Betty looked up to see who had walked in. Detective Jimmy Novak, Mills’s contact and a handsome young man. Betty would be lying if she said that Jimmy didn’t strike her, his vibrant eyes and dark hair had caught her attention during their first meeting, rendering her a stuttering mess. </p><p>“Yes, I’m just looking over them.” She told him, looking back to the files. “It’s good to have fresh eyes on these kinds of things.” Jimmy stared at her, she could sense it, his eyes gnawing at her. </p><p>“Betty,” he began, walking to stand closer to her. “You don’t have to stay and figure this one out.” She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Your father probably isn’t that far away, you could catch up to him.” The brunette gave him a weak smile.</p><p>“I appreciate it, Novak. But as a hunter, I have to help people, and, ya know, maybe I have to start accepting that fact that I might never find my father.” Jimmy frowned, eyes scrunching as his expression soured.</p><p>“Don’t say that.” He told her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “God will lead you back to him when the time is right.” Betty gave him a genuine smile, hopeful that his words were true. “Have you found anything new?” Her eyes went back to the papers, shuffling through them and pulling out receipts that had been found in the victims’ pockets.</p><p>“I didn't find anything new, but it is suspicious that all of them ate at the same place before they died.” She glanced at him, tilting her head at him slightly. "Has anyone gone to question them?" Jimmy opened his mouth, stuttering slightly.</p><p>“Uh, no. We've been kind of understaffed lately.” He answered, gesturing to the empty police station.</p><p>“Well, whatever it is, it’s connected to the diner.” Jimmy nodded in understanding, his eyes jumping to Betty’s ringing phone. She reached for it, Jimmy noting the way her face lit up at the caller. “I’m going to take this. Uh, I’ll check out the diner on my way to my motel.” He nodded, beginning to gather the papers.</p><p>“I’ll clean up here, go ahead.” Giving him a curt smile, she made her way out of the station. Flipping her phone open, she brought it up to her ear.</p><p>“Hey, Sam.” She greeted.</p><p>“Hi, uh, just calling in to check on ya.” Resisting the urge to smile at his voice, the brunette nodded to herself. She remembered Sam’s panicked call just a few days ago, warning her of the possibility of a demon following her. Of course, Betty had believed him. But she had failed to find any trace of a demon.</p><p>“I’m fine, Sam.” She assured him, running a hand through her hair. “I haven’t run into any demons.” </p><p>“You really don’t think you’re not on some demon watchlist?” He asked her, tone sharp, causing her to furrow her brows. </p><p>“No, I do not doubt that. But I don’t think I’m on a ‘stalk’ list, more like a ‘don’t interact’ list.” She shrugged, feeling her reasoning to be sound. Sam sighed into the phone not as impressed by her logic. </p><p>“Betty-”</p><p>“I know, I know,” she cut him off, waving her hand. “I’ll be careful, Sam. I promise.” </p><p>“Alright, but if you see or hear anything, call us.” She nodded to herself.</p><p>“Trust me, Sam. Anything happens, you’re my guy.” He gave a stifled chuckle.</p><p>“I’m your guy.” The happy tone he said it in made her lips curl up in a smile.</p><p>“Alright, I’ll call you later. I have to visit a diner for a case.” She said, wiping at her nose. “Bye.”</p><p>“Yeah. Bye, Betty.” Pulling her phone away from her ear, she flipped it closed. Taking a deep breath, she stuffed the phone into her pocket and continued to walk to her car. </p><p>
  <em> Brown eyes peered into a sky-colored bedroom. She spotted a woman, long brown hair and warm brown eyes, the same shade as hers, laying on the bed. An IV ran from her right arm to a bag filled with saline. A man rested his head in her lap as she ran her fingers through his jet black hair. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If you see or hear anything, let me know. I’m your guy, Dalia.” The man spoke, lifting his head to talk to her. She nodded, caressing his face and giving him a loving smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re my guy,” Dalia told him, pressing her forehead against his. Her eyes closed for a moment before opening and drifting toward the room’s door. She smiled, spotting their observer. “Betty,” she called out, the man turned, his sea-green eyes brightening. “Come here.” She extended an arm, inviting the six-year-old girl standing at the door to join them. </em>
</p><p>Mathers Diner. It sat at a street corner, looking eerily empty. Betty stared at it from her car across the street, a ball of nerves was building up in her stomach. The only time she had ever felt that way was on her first official hunt, she didn’t get them as much anymore. </p><p>Sighing, she exited the Malibu and crossed the street. Opening the door, a bell chimed, alerting someone in the kitchen. Betty could hear things clanging, pots dropping, and a person scrambling.</p><p>“Coming!” A male voice shouted. “Just a minute!” She neared the counter, examining the cracked walls. Her eyes caught a certain table. It was tucked away in the corner, ribbons closed off its seats, and some items sat on it. Glancing at the closed kitchen doors, Betty walked toward the table.</p><p>A picture frame sat in the center of it, a beautiful older woman with green eyes and blonde hair stared at the camera unamused, beside her was an older man with dark brown hair and warm brown eyes smiling ecstatically. Two urns sat just behind the frame, a silver ring with a single labradorite gem sat on top of one of them. Her eyes looked up, seeing a bronze plaque secured into the wall. It read: “In loving memory of George Mathers: 1931-2003, and Elizabeth Mathers: 1930-2006”. </p><p>It was slightly unnerving, sharing a name with some who’s dead. But, Betty couldn’t complain, her name was extremely common. Continuing to examine the diner, her eyes looked to the rest of the walls. They were covered in picture frames, some of the older couple and others of three young men. The longest frame sat just on the other side of the counter, Betty walked toward it, eyebrows furrowing and eyes narrowing to get a better view. Reaching it, her eyes widened in recognition.</p><p>Brown eyes, the same shade as her, were crinkled in a smile. Brown hair was wrapped into a bun, spots of flour peppered into it. She couldn’t have been older than Betty was now, standing in front of the counter with the rest of her family, her parents and three brothers, lined up beside her. Her left hand was pinching the elbow of the man with brown hair and deep green eyes who wore a thin silver chain around his neck standing beside her, making him scowl as the camera flashed. Her silver name tag faded in the photo quality, light bouncing off of it and making it unreadable. But Betty knew that smile, those eyes because they were the same as the picture frame she kept in her car.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” her head snapped to the counter, the kitchen doors opening as an older man walked through. The one the woman had been pinching in the photo, his brown hair now graying slightly and his green eyes a little less lively, and the thin silver chain still around his neck. He was covered head to toe in flour, attempting to wipe it off onto his red apron. “A little late for breakfast, but what can I get you, miss?” She blinked at him, shaking her head when he furrowed his brows at her.</p><p>“Um, my name is…” She drifted off slightly, her eyes going back to the picture. The man, Reggie his name tag read, leaned forward slightly and followed her gaze. He smiled looking at the picture, and he exited from behind the counter. Grabbing the frame, he lowered it, the brunette’s gaze following it.</p><p>“These are my parents, may their souls rest in peace.” He placed a finger into the man with dirty blonde hair and green eyes standing beside the couple. “My oldest brother, Tim, he’s a big shot lawyer in California.” His finger glided to the next man, who had scruffy brown hair and dark blue eyes. “My second older brother, Harry, he’s off in Florida working for some big insurance company.” He pointed to himself. “That’s me, and this,” he moved his finger, placing it just beneath the woman’s face. “This is-”</p><p>“Dalia.” Betty breathed out, her eyes were watering. Reggie looked at her, eyes widened with surprise. </p><p>“How-how did you know my baby sister’s name?” He questioned her, adjusting his now trembling grip on the picture frame. Betty wiped away a tear, giving him a nervous chuckle and shrugging slightly.</p><p>“She’s my mother.”</p><p>In all of Reggie’s 50 years of life, he had experienced some shocking things. Forgetting to put the cover on the blender, a good-looking cake tasting disgusting, and the usual kitchen disasters. But never did he think discovering he had a niece that he never knew about and vice versa would be added to the list. His dark green eyes stared at the 20-year-old girl sitting in the red and white booth across from him. At first, he hadn’t seen a lick of resemblance. Her face was rounder than Dalia’s had been at that age, her eyes were slightly upturned as opposed to the downturned puppy-dog eyes his sister had, and her hair was darker, bordering on black. But then he looked closer. Her eyes were the same shade of brown, her nose was upturned with a small bump one-third of the way down, and the same birthmark sat on the left side of her jawline. </p><p>“My father,” she suddenly said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Did you know him?” Of course, he had.</p><p>“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, his eyes looking to her fidgeting hands. “He’s the guy Dalia ran away with back in ‘84.” His tone was carefree as if assuming she already knew.</p><p>“Ran away?” Looking at her face, Reggie could see the confusion on her features. Awkwardly stretching one of his fingers, he looked away appearing like a bashful child.</p><p>“Guess you didn’t know about that.” Taking a deep breath, he looks at her again. He sighed, leaning back and rolling his shoulders back. “Listen, your mom and dad loved each other, a lot.” He chuckled, she gave him a slightly awkward smile. “But our mother didn't want her to marry him.” He looked at her again. “It really baffles me that she named you after her.” The woman nodded slowly, her head turning slightly to look at the memorial booth on the other side of the diner. </p><p>“Yeah.” Reggie’s mouth twitched slightly, the brunette noticing from the corner of her eyes. He wanted to ask her something. “Yes?” She asked, face tight, slightly afraid of what he could ask. </p><p>“Is-is she with you?” Her body stiffened at the question, clearing her throat, she looked away.</p><p>“She died before I turned thirteen,” she swallowed a waver in her voice. “Heart disease.” Reggie stared at her, his head nodding slightly. He suddenly stood up, his hands slamming on the dinner table, scaring the brunette.</p><p>“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Betty watched him with wide eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it. “After everything, she just dies!?” He shouted, turning to Betty as if asking her for an answer. “Damn it, Dalia!” </p><p>“Mr. Mathers-” she attempted to calm him down, reaching out a hand to his shoulder. He slapped her hand away.</p><p>“No, you don’t understand.” He told her, voice cold and different than it had been before. “My brothers and I, because Dalia ran away, our mother controlled us. You think Tim wanted to be a lawyer?” She stepped back from him, he stepped closer. “No! Harry wanted to stay here and marry his high school sweetheart.” He stepped forward, and Betty stepped back, slamming into the booth’s table. “And I-” his eyes teared up as he shook his head. “I wanted to get out of this goddamn town.” Both of them were breathing heavily, Reggie from screaming and Betty from fear. He turned away from her, resting his hand on the booth seat and catching his breath</p><p>“Mr. Mathers.” She attempted, stepping toward him. </p><p>“Get out.” </p><p>
  <em> “Mama.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, Betty.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why don’t I have grandparents?” Dalia stiffened, the words in the book she was reading becoming blurry. Turning toward her eight-year-old daughter, Betty sat at the foot of her bed, fidgeting with the stuffed bear in her arms. Closing the book, she beckoned the child to sit in the space beside her.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why are you asking that?” She asked as the girl snuggled up to her. Betty sighed, burying her face into her mother’s cardigan. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We were celebrating grandparents’ day in class today,” she began, clutching the teddy bear tightly. “And all my friends had a grandma or a grandpa.” Her big brown eyes looked up to meet Dalia’s, brimming with sadness and confusion. “Why don’t I have any?” Dalia squeezed the girl’s shoulder, bringing her closer in an attempt to avoid her gaze. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s complicated.” She responded. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why?” The girl fought against her mother’s grip, trying to meet her eyes again. But Dalia’s strength didn’t let up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Sweetheart, you wouldn't understand." Her mother responded. Betty frowned, squirming to escape her hold.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"But, why?" Dalia exhaled through her nose, the girl fussing beside her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Just leave it alone, Betty." The little girl tugged at her mother's cardigan.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I want to know!" Suddenly, her mother grabbed her arms, yanking her around to face her. Her teddy bear fell, landing on the floor.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I said drop it!” Dalia shouted, Betty stared at her with wide eyes. She had never seen her mother like this, angry and gripping her arms so tight that it hurt. Her mother sighed, releasing the girl's arms. “Stop asking.” Betty stood from the bed, grabbing her teddy bear and backing away from the bed. "Understand?" The young girl nodded, reaching the room's door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, mom.” </em>
</p><p>Betty sat in her car, parked just outside of the motel she was staying at. In her hands was the picture frame of her mother that she had taken along with her all those months ago. She rubbed her thumb along the glass, trying desperately to wipe away the smile on her mother’s face. Tears streamed down her face, and she sighed, closing them. </p><p>“What is the deal with my family?” She let her head rest on the steering wheel, wiping away at the tears. The coolness of the leather wheel alleviated the headache she felt coming on. Opening her eyes, she looked to the frame in her hands. “What else were you hiding?” A knocking at her window made her jump, dropping the small frame into her lap. Turning, she was met with a friendly wave from detective Novak.</p><p>“What’re you doing?” He asked, a smile present on his features. Betty smiled back at him, albeit weakly, rolling down her windows. </p><p>“Just,” she began, mouth open and unsure of how to continue. “Just processing something.” She finished, looking away from him, Jimmy raised an eyebrow at her.</p><p>“Well, did you find anything at the diner?” The brunette groaned, leaning forward against the steering wheel again. Jimmy gave her a concerned look. “Guess that’s a no.” Suddenly, she straightened up.</p><p>“No, wait.” Betty thought back to the urns at the diner, to the rings that sat on top of one of them. Grabbing the files from the seat beside her, she pulled all the pictures of the women that had died. Laying them beside each other on the dashboard, she raised the photo of her mother to compare them. Brown hair and light brown eyes. “They all look like my mom.” Jimmy leaned into her window, unsure of where she was going with this. “We have to go to that diner tonight,” she told him. “I know who’s killing these women.”</p><p>Jimmy jumped from foot to foot, flashlight in hand. Betty was crouched slightly in front of him, picking the lock on the diner’s front door. The light moved erratically thanks to his movements, making the brunette turn to him.</p><p>“Could you hold it still, Novak?” He gave her a stressed smile, freezing in place. Betty turned back to the lock, continuing to jiggling the picks. Jimmy looked around the empty street, the few street lights too far away to reach them.</p><p>“So, your grandma is killing people?” He asked her, earning a small groan from the woman. The lock clicked signaling that it was open. Standing up straight, she motioned for the detective to follow. </p><p>“I think she’s mistaking these women for my mother,” she began, pulling a flashlight out of her jacket and clicking it on. “But once she realized they weren’t her daughter, she killed them out of anger.” She finished, her light settled on the plaque, reflecting it into her eyes.</p><p>“But why?” Jimmy questioned, softly closing the door behind them. Betty sighed through her nose, walking toward the booth. He followed behind her, shining his flashlight around the eerie dinner.</p><p> “Ghosts who stick around too long end up losing their marbles, she probably just went crazy.” She answered, stopping at the booth. Jimmy, not looking where he was going, bumped into her, causing the brunette to fall toward the urns. He quickly grabbed the back of her jacket, narrowly avoiding disaster. Pulling her back to her feet, Jimmy gave her an apologetic smile and patted her shoulder. Betty shot him a look, rolling her eyes slightly and reaching for the silver ring. </p><p>It was prettier up close. The labradorite was a rainbow of blues and greens, mesmerizing the brunette. Rotating it in her hands, she caught sight of an engraving. “La Pucelle d'Orléans”. Before she could even identify what language it was in, the memorial booth’s table began to shake violently. The urns shooks, their caps jumping and ashes spilling out. Betty jumped back, Jimmy grabbed onto her arm, pulling her back to the entrance. </p><p>“Let’s get out of here!” Suddenly, the table stopped and the lights switched on. </p><p>“What the hell!?” Both turned to the kitchen door. Reggie stood there, hand still on the light switch. His face was red, anger rising in his eyes. Raising the counter entrance, he walked over to the pair. “You broke into my diner!” He shouted the glint of silver in the brunette’s hand caught his eye. “To steal the goddamn ring!?” He snatched the ring out of her hand, shaking his finger in her face. “You’re just like your father, a thief.” Betty stared at him with a hurt expression, avoiding his gaze. “And you,” he turned to Jimmy, who jumped back. “The hell do you think you’re doing, James? You’re a cop, not a thug.” Shaking his head, he sighed, walking to the memorial booth. “Leave before I call the police.”</p><p>“Reggie,” Betty began, stepping toward him. “I can explain.” He didn’t acknowledge her voice, fixing the caps on the urns and carefully placing the ring back on it. “Your mother, my grandmother, she’s killing women.” His fist slammed into the table, causing the urns to shake and the ring to fall under it. </p><p>“My mother is dead,” he turned to her, glaring. “She can’t do anything.” He turned away again, crouching down to pick up the ring. Betty frowned, feeling a poke on her shoulder.</p><p>“Uh, Betty.” She shrugged Jimmy off.</p><p>“Not now, Novak.” She mumbled under her breath, searching her brain for what to say next. Jimmy relentlessly tapped at her shoulder again, making her inhale deeply in annoyance and snapping to look at him. “What!?” He lifted a shaky finger toward the other end of the diner, Betty looked in the direction, eyes widening at what she saw.</p><p>A woman stood at the end of the diner, the light flickered above her, providing only short glimpses of what she looked like. Her hair was blonde, long, and matted. Her skin was a sickly pale blue, chucks rotten out and seeping an unknown yellow liquid. Her lifeless green eyes stared out, unblinking. She raised a rotting hand, pointing at Betty.</p><p>“Dalia.” With that course whisper, the light above her exploded, the rest of the ceiling lights leading to them burst in succession, sending sparks flying through the diner. Reggie grabbed the ring, turning to the shapes of Betty and Jimmy.</p><p>“The hell?” He questions, a hand grabbed onto his wrist, making him jump.</p><p>“We have to get out of here!” Betty shouted, she grabbed Jimmy’s shoulder and proceeded to pull the two men toward the exit. The ghostly figure of her grandmother appeared before them, blocking the path to the door. Reggie peered over the brunette’s shoulder, eyes widening in shock. He pulled at Betty’s arm.</p><p>“The kitchen,” he took off, motioning for them to follow. “There’s an exit in the kitchen.” Betty tugged Jimmy along, following Reggie’s lead. Bursting through the kitchen doors, the two found Reggie tugging at the backdoor. “It won’t open!” He shouted back at them, the kitchen doors slammed closed. At the center of the room appeared the ghost, she stared at Betty.</p><p>“Reggie,” Betty began, stepping back toward the kitchen entrance. “Grab the salt over there and make a circle, get inside of it and you’ll be safe.” Reggie nodded, grabbing the large salt container and forcing it open. </p><p>“Dalia.” She stalked toward her, reaching her pale hand toward her. Jimmy put a protective arm in front of Betty, in response, the ghost’s eyes glowed. With a wave of her outstretched hand, Jimmy felt a force throw him aside, knocking him over a kitchen island. He rolled over it, landing on his side and knocking his head against the cabinet behind it. </p><p>“Jimmy!” Betty tried to go toward him, but the ghost materialized in front of her. Her hand reached toward the young woman, the brunette squeezed her eyes shut as it settled on her cheek. She expected a cold feeling to overcome her, for a shiver to go down her spine. But, the hand was warm, comforting even. Opening her eyes, a golden light traveled down the hand on her cheek. As the light traveled, the rotten skin on the ghost’s arm became lively, flushed with life.</p><p>“You’ve come back to me.” The light continued, about to reach her face when a hail of salt fell onto the two of them. Her grandmother hissed, her hand leaving Betty’s cheek and returning to the rotten state. The ghost turned to the source, finding Reggie. She jumped at the man, being blocked by an invisible wall. Looking down, she saw the circle of salt. </p><p>“Listen, ma,” Reggie called attention to himself, his hands aggressively shaking the salt in his left hand. “I love you, but I will not hesitate to throw salt in your face.” The ghost hissed at him, Reggie wound his arm up.</p><p>“Reggie, wait,” Betty said, putting her hand up to stop him. Her uncle froze in place, retracting his arm and giving her a concerned look. Taking a deep breath, the brunette neared the ghost. “Mom,” she called out, her grandmother snapped toward her. “It’s me, it’s Dalia.” She gave her a small smile, a feeling of guilt building up in her stomach. “I’m home.” The ghost appeared directly in front of her, making her jump slightly but she remained strain-faced. </p><p>“Dalia.” Betty watched the ghost reach a hand toward her face again. Within an inch from her face, the golden light shined on her grandmother’s fingertips and traveled down to her wrist. The light continued down her arm as her hand made contact with the brunette’s cheek, the light engulfed the rest of her body. The terrifying version of her grandmother was replaced with the woman in the picture frame, her green eyes filled with happiness and her blonde hair pulled into a neat and tight bun. “I have something to give you.” Her grandmother turned to Reggie, appearing in front of him and stretching out her hand outside of the salt circle. “The ring, Reginald.” The man blinked at her, dropping the salt container and fumbling.</p><p>“Uh, here!” He pulled the ring out of his apron pocket, dropping it into her hand. Turning, she teleported back to Betty. She softly grabbed the brunette’s hand, pulling it open and placing the ring in her hand. </p><p>“You’re finally going to fulfill your purpose.” Betty furrowed her brows as her grandmother closed her hand over the ring.</p><p>“Purpose?” A white light began at the bottom of her grandmother’s feet, traveling upward as she began to disappear. “Wait, what purpose?” Her grandmother smiled at her.</p><p>“You’ll do well, Dalia.” Closing her eyes, her grandmother angled her face toward the sky. “I can finally rest.” Betty reached out a hand, but the spirit vanished, the white light continuing to float upward away from her. She looked to her hand, opening and seeing the ring. She met Reggie’s eyes, he shrugged slightly at her. </p><p>“Ugh.” Both of their heads snapped toward the kitchen island. Betty was the first to move, pocketing the ring and making her way to the source of the groan.</p><p>“Jimmy,” cerulean eyes opened to meet her and he attempted to sit up. “Don’t move, you might have a concussion.” She kneeled beside him, gently keeping him down. Betty brushed his messy hair out of his face, examining his head. “Does anything hurt?” He hazily blinked at her, resting his head against her hands.</p><p>“The back of my head,” he began. “I hit it against the cabinets.” Betty slowly reached to touch the back of his head, it felt wet, she retracted her hand finding it covered with blood. </p><p>“Jimmy,” he blinked at her. “Close your eyes for me.” His brows furrowed at her, she smiled at him. “Trust me.” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Betty closed her eyes, concentrating. </p><p>Reggie had never seen anything like it. The palm of Betty’s hand, the one that rested on the back of Jimmy’s head, glowed a bluish-white. The light left her palm, highlighting the wound. From the bottom of the wound, the light traveled, closing it. The blood remained, staining his hair and the brunette’s hand but the wound was gone.</p><p>“You okay, now?” Betty’s eyes opened just as Jimmy’s did. He nodded at her, smiling. She stood, reaching a hand out to him. He took it, standing beside her.</p><p>“What. Was. That? Your hand-” Reggie began now stepping out of the salt circle. The two looked at him, Betty giving him wide eyes that seemed to tell him to shut his mouth. “Then- the ghost,” he corrected himself. “What?” The brunette glanced at Jimmy.</p><p>“You can head home, Novak.” She told him, he looked at her about to protest. “I can straighten everything out here. Head home.” Jimmy sighed, placing a hand on Betty’s shoulder and patting it softly. </p><p>“See you later?” She stifled a chuckle at him, shaking her head.</p><p>“Probably not.” He smiled at her, taking a deep breath and exiting the kitchen. Betty turned back to Reggie. “Time to talk, uncle.”</p><p>Reggie swept at the broken glass on the floor, the rising sun peered over the horizon. He stopped momentarily, holding the broom close and resting his chin on his hands. He looked at Betty, who sat at the counter, staring at the ring and the small picture frame of her mother.</p><p>“So, let me get this straight, ghosts and monsters are real,” she lifted her head to look at him, setting the frame down. “Hunters keep them under control.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re a hunter and so is your father?” She nodded. “He’s taken off, and you’ve suddenly developed unexplainable powers while looking for him?” She nodded again, Reggie let out an exasperated sigh, adjusting his grip on the broom. “Your life is insane.” Betty let out a stifled chuckle.</p><p>“Tell me about it.” She rested her head against the palm of her hand, raising to ring to her line of sight. “Do you have any idea of what my grandmother was talking about?” Reggie made a face, sweeping the remaining glass. </p><p>“Our mom was batshit crazy.” Betty’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide in shock at his choice of words. Reggie laughed, leaning the broom onto the booth seat and sitting down across from her. “She was controlling, mainly of Dalia. Wanted her to marry some big shot that was passing through town, then she met Joshua.” Betty lowered the ring, placing it on the table as she listened intently. “Our mom was so against the two of them getting married, saying that it wasn’t how things were supposed to go.” He clasped his hands together, cracking his fingers. “Eventually, Dalia and Joshua came up to me and my brothers, begging us to help.” His eyes were distant, recalling that fateful day.</p><p>“And you did.” He met her gaze, his green eyes tearful as he nodded. </p><p>“Yeah, uh,” he breathed in through his nose, wiping away the tears in his eyes. “After they left our mother went haywire.” He continued. “I guess, she thought that if she couldn’t control Dalia’s life, she would control ours.” Betty looked back to the ring. “Down to the smallest detail.” Betty blinked, glancing at the frame of her mother.</p><p>“Do you regret it?” Reggie’s eyes snapped to look at her, she looked to meet his gaze. He chewed the inside of his cheek, blinking in thought.</p><p>“No.” He smiled at her. “I don’t regret it at all.” Betty returned his smile, holding the ring out to him.</p><p>“Here, I’m not supposed to have this.” Reggie pushed her hand back to her, shaking his head.</p><p>“Dalia would want you to have it.” Brown eyes stared at the opal stone, traveling down to the engraving. Shaking her head, she fought back tears building up in her eyes.</p><p>“I don’t deserve to wear it on my finger.” Reggie felt himself frown deeply at her words, the sour look on his face vanished when an idea popped into his head. Reaching his hand to the back of his neck, he unclasped the thin silver chain he wore. He took the ring from her hand, feeding the chain through it and holding it up with pride.</p><p>“Then wear it around your neck.” She began to shake her head, but he quickly stood and walked over to her. He draped the necklace around her neck, fastening it closed and adjusting it. Betty lifted the ring, smiling at it as Reggie moved to meet her eyes. She stood, grabbing the picture frame and turning to her uncle.</p><p>“Uh, with the spirit dealt with here,” she began, looking at him. “I have to move on.” Reggie stared at her blankly, nodding and looking away. “I’m glad I got to meet you, got to know a little bit more about my mother.” He rubbed a hand on his chin, opening his mouth slightly in thought. A picture frame appeared in his line of sight. “I want you to have this.” He grabbed the frame, flipping it upright. “It’s of my mother before she got really sick.” His eyes teared up and he rubbed a thumb over his sister’s face.</p><p>“Thank you.” He told her, Betty nodded. She grabbed a napkin from the booth, writing on it with a pen and offering it to him.</p><p>“If you ever need me, just call.”</p><p>
  <em> Her fingertips pressed up against the windows, the cold of winter making them numb. The sound of wheels squeaking made her turn, her mother was approaching her, wheeling her IV drip stand beside her. The young girl quickly stood and met Dalia halfway, grabbing her arms to provide extra support. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Mom, what’re you doing out of bed?” The twelve-year-old questioned, beginning to lead the older woman back to the room. Dalia shook off her daughter’s hands, stepping closer to the window.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Let’s go and enjoy the snow.” Betty frowned, following her and reaching to grab her arm again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You have to go rest.” Her mother dodged her grasp, placing her hand onto the tweens head and ruffling her hair. She retracted her hand and laughed as Betty flusteredly fixed her hair. “You aren’t going to get better if you keep doing this.” Dalia waved a hand at her, wrapping her shawl close to her body. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nuez, I’m not going to get better.” She continued to walk toward the window, ignoring the looked her daughter gave her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’ve got to stop saying that,” Betty told her, watching her mother struggle to unlatch the window. “The doctors will find something.” She walked over, clicking the latch open and pushing the window open. Dalia breathed in the cold air, letting the falling snowflakes hit her face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “My life is in God’s hands.” She closed her eyes, Betty frowned again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, God’s doing a great job at letting you die.” The young girl mumbled, leaning against the closed window beside the open one. Her mother gave her a stern look, softening at the sorrow in her eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Betty,” she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, turning her to face her. “All my life people have tried to control me, make me something they claim I was meant to be.” Betty met her mother’s blank gaze, blinking away tears. “God granted me salvation and freedom, through your father and soon through death.” The girl’s face crinkled in sadness, Dalia’s face remained expressionless. “Do you understand?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I understand.” </em>
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